My Spouse and I Are in Our 80s. Here's How Sex Has Changed

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We were each 70 years old when we met. We fell in love, had sex like we were the last woman and the last man on earth and got married within six months.

Then, the unthinkable happened. We turned 80.

Over time, my back had gone out, my hips ached and except for my bladder (which leaked), I became dry as the desert. As for him, his age-related, enlarged prostate was causing, uh, problems.

Our marriage had been a loving, harmonious and stable companionship and sexual intimacy had always been a spark that kept our fires burning — not just for each other — but for life itself. We didn’t want the fire to go out while we weren’t looking.

Realizing that our physical limitations would not allow us to perform the way we did when we met, and neither of us liking the way the little blue pill made things feel, we moved away from the old sex we had known and found our way to a new sex, deciding we would try everything.

There’d be no more judgment from either of us; toys, films, mutual masturbation, even 50 shades of modifications all became part of the game. We knew that whatever we needed to learn was out there, we just had to look for it.

In the process, we learned just how much fun modification could be!

No more sweaty sheets? Not a problem. There are ways to get excited without sweating. No more me climbing on top of him or spreading my thighs under him? No worries. Keeping my vibrator handy has definitely taught us that there’s more than one way to get to the goal.

No longer full of the hormones that drive that mad rush to spontaneity? Easy. Scheduling intimate times together was better than leaving things to chance and I keep a large bottle of massage oil in the nightstand for our regular Sunday morning playtimes.

In fact, I love the sensual feeling that massaging oil onto my husband’s back, thighs and shoulders gives. And, if his down under doesn’t respond to the usual physical clues that tell me just how much he likes back rubs, I’m happy to help perk things up with my oiled hands.

Our new sex has taught us that intercourse isn’t the holy grail we once thought it was. In fact, it can be entirely eliminated and replaced with a wide range of “outercourse,” a wonderful word I learned from books on sexuality and aging that perfectly describes the body’s other, eloquent love languages. A regular diet of skin-to-skin contact — cuddling, hugging, kissing, holding hands — all help to maintain the emotional familiarity, eroticism and shared intimacy that genital sex had previously provided.

Our new sex has turned my man into a touchy-feely guy and when he touches me and feels me, I respond. I love the way he plays with my hair and the casual love pats on my butt. These gestures make clear of his desire to be physically intimate with me. At this advanced age and stage, my sex tank is full.

In my younger days, I wouldn’t have picked up on his sexual cues but, with our new sex, I tune in to what he wants and am willing to change my behavior to meet his desires. If he likes what he calls “movie star hair,” then it’s no big deal for me to grow my hair longer. And, I do it to please him.

Our new sex we has also taught us the value of fantasy and that there is little we can’t animate through our imaginations.

One night, while we were sitting on the sofa watching a movie together, a highly erotic sex scene began to play out. I could hardly wait to get into bed with the 40-something-year-old man in the movie who had, through my imagination, become one and the same with the 83-year-old flesh-and-blood man I was married to. The difference is that, with our new sex, I told my husband exactly what I was fantasizing.

One evening my husband told me that he had a music video he wanted to play for me. Soon enough, I heard Leonard Cohen’s gravelly voice singing lyrics that say it all.

Dance me to the wedding now

Dance me on and on

Dance me very tenderly

And dance me very long. 

Touch me with your naked hand

Or touch me with your glove.

Dance me to the end of love.

I celebrate the fact that as a couple, my husband and I consciously decided to keep our marriage physical. I’m grateful that, even as we moved into our 80s, neither of us abandoned the primal, erotic connection between us. It gives us both vitality, a lusty joie de vivre and makes us secret playmates of each other.

Finally, I celebrate a marriage that provides a partnership to dance with, just as Leonard Cohen says, “…. all the way to the end of love.” I’ve never forgotten a friend who once complained that for her, old age was “anti-libidinous.”

“Maybe for my friend.” I thought lightly. “But today, even at my age of 83 years, that’s simply not true for me."


Are any of you enjoying a pleasurable sex life later in life? Let us know in the comments below.