I loved my now ex-husband. He was a good man, a loyal man, a true man.
And a sexless man.
We were together nine years, and we did not have sex for the last four — at all.
Our last grasp at a sex life was a trip to Greece. We had fun, but still no sex. People are aghast when I tell them this now because we all know that Greece is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Or should be. We said “Uncle” about six months after our Grecian Hail Mary. It was mutual, though heartbreaking.
A no-sex marriage can kill your self-esteem. At least, it killed mine. I became a schlub because, who cared? Not my husband. And eventually, I didn’t care either about how I presented myself to the world — or about sex. I was 54.
With the passing of time (and a little therapy), I got reacquainted with my old self. I began to like her. I began to feel good. Eventually, I wanted to look good . I got reacquainted with the wonder-woman trainer, Maribel, who made me stronger and more powerful than ever when I turned 40.
Sure enough, 4 million squats later, I was feeling better and full of energy. I had interest in traveling, old friends, new friends — but absolutely no interest in sex. I thought I was done with bedroom adventures.
After one particularly sweaty training session, Maribel told me about a "girls night out" she was putting together — a bunch of fun women, a little wine and sensual dancing. Maribel planned to unleash and awaken our sexy woman, with her choreography inspired by Bob Fosse — and Beyoncé.
Who doesn’t want to channel the fierce diva, Beyoncé. But Bob Fosse? Research time. After a binge of Fosse films — All That Jazz, Cabaret — I was hooked enough to splurge on Broadway tickets to Chicago. It left me with an intense desire to be Roxie Hart. I called Maribel — I was in.
The tools required? A boa, some tights (or, better yet, fishnet stockings), skimpy bottoms and tops. Oh, and a pair of stilettos.
The mission: Unleash that sexy diva! In our first class, there were twelve of us, ranging in age from roughly 32 to 60. The stars were us, the boas and one simple chair we faced as we took our places.
Maribel choreographed two steamy dances — both very simple and repetitive, so we could follow without feeling, well, ridiculous. One was slow, sensual — Love on the Brain by Rihanna. The other was for our fierce, bad-a** selves, Buttons by the Pussycat Dolls.
Let the Dancing Begin
None of us were pros for girls night out — except for Maribel, aka Sashabell. At first, I felt very vulnerable letting my inner Beyoncé loose with a bunch of women I didn’t know.
It helped to close my eyes at first, not look in the mirror, just feel the music and listen to Sashabel: “Dance with that chair, sit on it, flirt with it, caress it. Lap-dance with yourself, or your honey. Trust the chair, use it as a stage. Sway your hips. Touch your thighs, reach for the boa, shake it. Put it between those beautiful legs. Whip that hair around. Fantasize!”
My favorite move was the body roll: a sensual sway that can be upper body, lower body, or both. When that move clicked, I really channeled Roxie, with a large dose of another favorite vixen, Rihanna.
As the night went on, and the wine went down, the girls and I didn’t hold back. We left class strutting through Lower Manhattan, in our fishnet stockings and high heels, letting loose on the world, like the fine, beautiful women we are, taking our power back.
Back to the Bedroom
And now: Let’s just say, I am far from done with sex. Thanks to Bob Fosse, Roxie Hart, Rihanna, Beyoncé and Sashabell, my sexuality is fully reawakened. Guess it took a village. While I do not have an official “boyfriend,” I do have an amorous partner. Has he seen my Fosse moves? Not just yet. For now, my Fosse moves are for me and the girls ... He has to earn it.
Maryjane Fahey is the editor of Disrupt Aging.
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