DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I’m in my late 50s and newly divorced after decades of monogamous marriage. FWIW I’m a masculine-of-center lesbian, but I’m guessing my question is relevant to people of all genders and orientations.
My question is: how do older people with creaky bodies navigate having sex with new partners? The last time I was on the market, I was young, kinky, and flexible. Now I’m old, creaky, and rigid. I have joint problems, chronic pain, arthritis, asthma, and sleep apnea. I’m cancer survivor with a bilateral mastectomy. I’m post-menopausal with all the sexual challenges that come with that. I feel like I’d need to give someone a two-hour safety orientation before even cuddling.
Sex is supposed to be fun, but when I think about being physically vulnerable with someone new, it feels scary and not in a good way. I’m scared that even normal vanilla sex could result in a serious injury if my partner isn’t willing or able to be super cautious with my body. I’m anxious I’ll disappoint my partner if I don’t have the stamina or flexibility to have sex the ways they like. And I’m wondering, who would actually want to go through all this hassle just to have sex with me? Should I just focus instead on ramping up my solo game?
I can’t be the only older single person with an aging semi-functional body who has physical limitations around sex! But I haven’t been able to find any good guidelines about sex etiquette for people in my situation. When do I bring up my physical limitations? How do I talk about my mastectomy without killing the vibe? How do I learn to trust that my partners will care for and respect my body’s needs and limitations?
My worries about this are really holding me back from starting to date again. Any tips?
Signed, Old Dog Needs New Tricks
DEAR OLD DOG NEEDS NEW TRICKS: Age is the great leveler, ODNNT; time, entropy and gravity take their toll on everyone, whether prince or pauper. Until the day we get fully functional artificial bodies a la Commander Data, we all face days when our bodies aren’t going to work the way we’d prefer and we have to work around those limitations.
But it’s worth noting that people already face these issues and still have sex – especially as average lifespans grow and modern science makes it possible to mitigate some of the age-and-infirmity related roadblocks to sex. Retirement communities and assisted living communities are hotbeds of sex, as seniors – in varying degrees of decrepitude – continue to bang out. Similarly, people with a multitude of disabilities and handicaps that run the gamut of severity also date and have sex. Does it mean that people have to make adjustments and allowances and find work-arounds? Of course… but that’s precisely part of what makes all sex work.
Now, one of the benefits of the fact that other people also face these challenges and difficulties is that people have been there before and have drawn up maps and wrote guides to help others find their way through, too. I highly recommend that you check out The Ultimate Guide to Sex and Disability: For All of Us Who Live with Disabilities, Chronic Pain, and Illness by Miriam Kaufman, Corey Silverberg and Fran Odette – a medical doctor, a sex educator and disability advocate, respectively. It includes not just practical advice on positions and acts, but ways of seeing yourself as a sexual person, discussions on desire and suggestions on how to find partners and discuss your needs and restrictions. ��I would also recommend Naked At Our Age: Talking Out Loud About Senior Sex by Joan Price. While you may not be a senior citizen yet, this is a great resource for addressing feelings and concerns about sex as we age and why getting older doesn’t mean having to resign yourself to a sexless existence. I think these two might pair well and give you both practical advice and vocabulary to communicate with your future partners.
However, in addition to the assigned reading, I think you should reframe how you see yourself and your body, especially in relationship to the partners you will have in the future – specifically the question of trust and comfort and how to communicate your needs to potential snugglebunnies.
You have limits, and any partner you have is going to need to be aware of them and sensitive to them. Those aren’t problems, per se, they’re facts. They’re just who you are and how your body works. Treating this as a problem or something you have to apologize for puts you in a poor place for finding and vetting a partner, in part because you’re talking about coming to them and saying “I’m sorry I’m broken in these ways, I hope you still like me.” You don’t have anything to apologize for; these aren’t flaws or defects, they’re just your body aging, like bodies do. Moreover, many of them are signs that you’re a survivor, bearing the scars of many hard-fought battles with Death himself. That’s not something to apologize for, that’s something that cultures used to brag about. Cancer couldn’t kill you! That’s the sort of battle that earns you a seat in Sto-Vo-Kor, win or lose.
(I’ve been binging Deep Space 9 and Lower Decks lately, does it show?)
So, I would suggest reframing your thinking about how to roll things out to your partner. A key point to remember is that people will look to us to understand how to react to information we provide them. You don’t want to apologize for how your body works, or for what you need for sex to be satisfying to you, you want to roll it out as “here’s how I work, here’s what I like, here’s what I need, here’s what I have to be careful with, and here’s what I can’t do, full stop.” You aren’t apologizing, you’re handing your prospective partner the “here’s how you win with me” guide.
How they respond to this information is going to be like the filter that tells you whether they’re a good fit for you or not. Someone who’s worth having sex with will take this information on board and use it appropriately. Someone who’s mature and kind, but finds that maybe this doesn’t work for them will bow out gracefully – no harm, no foul, just not a good fit. Someone who has a problem with this, on the other hand, disqualifies themselves and does you a favor in the process.
The same applies to the process of getting comfortable enough with a partner to have the kind of sex you want and enjoy. If you don’t want to kill the vibe by talking about your mastectomy, then I’d recommend talking about it before there’s a vibe to kill – that is, when there’s enough mutual attraction that sex is a possibility, but before you’re having to hit pause in the middle of a make-out session. I think an Awkward Conversation to cover “Hey, if we go forward with this, here’s what you should know” is a good idea – marking out time specifically to talk about it and answer questions without feeling like you need to rush through to get back to the hands and mouth action. Both of the books I recommend have suggestions on how to conduct those conversations.
Similarly, I understand being concerned about needing trust and security with a partner because of your challenges as well as the actual risks, and I would say that this is as good of a reason to keep many, if not most forms of sex off the table until such a time that they have built that amount of trust with you. There may be things you can do – mutual masturbation, for example – but other forms may have to wait until later down the line. This, too, is a filter; folks who are going to be right for you will be ok with this. Folks who aren’t, won’t be.
(And to be clear, that doesn’t mean that they’re bad people if this doesn’t work for them. It just means that you two are a poor fit!)
I completely understand why your worries are making you hesitate, ODNNT, but I promise you that you’re traveling a path that many people have traveled before, and they’ve left advice on how you can follow it through successfully too. The worries are large and in charge, but I promise you: they only seem larger and scarier than they actually are.
You’ve got this.
Good luck.
Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com