At 46, I've learned that my husband can't fully satisfy me. This is the only thing that works... and I'm not the only woman who does it: BRIDGET ZYKA
After eight years of marriage, Friday evenings no longer mean ‘date night’ for my husband and me. Don’t get me wrong, we’re still happily married – but we appreciate our time apart, too.
So at the end of a busy week, Aldo will usually go out with friends after work and you’ll typically find me snuggled up in bed with a book.
But not just any book, you understand. Cosy crimes and prize-winning literature aren’t my thing.
Rather, I’ll pick something from the library of erotic fiction I keep hidden away in the bottom drawer of my bedside table.
Then, with the children safely in bed, I’ll have a bath, dress in sexy lingerie to get in the mood, lock myself away in the bedroom – and read...
I consider myself to have a satisfying sex life but, if I’m being honest, only part of that is to do with Aldo.
It’s not that I never orgasm with him but, as any mum knows, when you’ve got two children under five plus a job and a household to juggle, then sex is usually a rushed event, either when they’re asleep or a snatched moment during the day.
And that’s not ideal when – as I do – you need time and mental stimulation in order to get to a place where you can truly let go.
They've been happily married for eight years – but Bridget and Aldo fin that they still appreciate their time apart
It was different when she met Aldo in Covent Garden when they were both 33, the sexual chemistry between them was palpable
At 46, I’ve learned that no man can satisfy me – or ever has done – the way I can when it’s just me with a sexy book.
Erotica ticks every box because I feel more uninhibited without someone else watching. The men of my fantasies are almost always far more appealing than those I’ve known in real life, too.
I’m not alone in using the power of prose to turn myself on.
One recent study found 45 per cent of British females have consumed erotic literature over the last year – and that 25 per cent of women read an erotic novel several times a week.
Aldo is totally oblivious to this part of my life, but I honestly don’t think it will bother him to find out.
My Friday nights ensure I get what I need, which is one less thing for him to worry about and means I’m more in the mood and can be focused on his needs when we do make love.
I have always enjoyed erotica, having discovered it in my teens.
Not that it was information I would have ever shared with my mum and dad.
Growing up in rural Ireland in a Catholic household, my parents, who had me in their 40s, never ever talked about sex.
At school there were fleeting references to sex, but only in biology and religious education, where we were told that you couldn’t have sex outside of marriage, because the act was for the purpose of procreation only. There were no PSHE lessons then.
My friends and I were left to rely on what we found in books such as Shirley Conran’s Lace and Jackie Collins novels.
I spent most of my teenage years single and, even after losing my virginity at 18, I couldn’t understand what the fuss was all about.
By then I already knew how to please myself with the help of a passage from a book such as DH Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover.
My favourite is still the Nancy Friday book, My Secret Garden: Women’s Sexual Fantasies, which detailed all the different ways women could be turned on and truly opened my eyes to the world of female desire. First published in the 70s, it’s now considered a classic and last year the Sex Education actress Gillian Anderson authored a follow-up called Want, an up-to-date collection of women’s sexual fantasies.
One recent study found 45 per cent of British females have consumed erotic literature over the last year (picture posed by models)
Fast forward to today and I have amassed my own library of erotic literature by authors such as Anais Nin and Sylvia Day, whose books include the Dream Guardians fantasy series.
While I don’t tell Aldo about any of these purchases, I don’t hide them either. The truth is he’s just never really noticed.
I certainly got a lot of use out of my erotic collection during
my 20s.
After a degree in business studies, I began working in financial technology, which is very male-dominated.
The majority of the men I met were lovely nerds and while I did date the odd techie, at that age I was more focused on my career than relationships.
Aided by my special books, it meant if I wasn’t seeing anyone, I wasn’t that bothered.
It was different when I met Aldo; the sexual chemistry between us was palpable.
He was tall, dark, handsome and extremely macho. Finally, I thought, someone who could have walked off the pages of one of my books.
After our first date, we went back to mine and had incredible sex. It meant that for three years my erotica habit took a back seat.
Before we became parents we both had similarly high sex drives and enjoyed being intimate when we could.
After being together for a year we married in 2017 but two years in, I noticed our sex life
had begun to fall into a less exciting, albeit loving pattern, especially while we were trying to conceive.
Like so many would-be parents, we spent two years having fairly mechanical, timed sex in order for me to become pregnant with our son.
A year after I’d given birth in 2020 I got pregnant again and we had our second child in 2022.
Then my libido dropped off a cliff. For the first three months after my second baby, I went off sex and had no sexual thoughts.
I’d still be intimate (just!) with Aldo, but that was it.
He is a typical man and while he was understanding, he made it clear he was looking forward to us having sex more often.
When I lost the baby weight by the time my youngest was a year old, I found myself beginning to fantasise again.
I dusted off my mini library and that helped get me back into the mood so things could get back on an even keel with our sex life.
But even though things are now back to normal for us, I still prefer to climax on my own. I take my time and know what works for me. That’s not to say I don’t love Aldo – I do, very much. But when we have sex, which is at least once a week, that’s about Aldo’s pleasure, not mine.
It sounds mean saying he’s uninterested in my sexual desire, but he works a 40-hour week and is a good parent, so he’s exhausted.
That’s the thing about men; they’re very focused on their own needs and satisfaction. Once that’s achieved they want to fall asleep.
On my own, I can take things at my pace and indulge in my fantasies without having to please him.
That said, at the risk of sounding hypocritical, I wouldn’t be happy for Aldo to have a secret sexual appetite that he kept from me.
But men are simple creatures and I’m confident he wouldn’t think to hide anything from me.
Although I’ve not dared to discuss my love of erotica with most of my friends, I suspect they’re up to the same thing.
A sex therapist friend of mine has assured me that I’m perfectly normal.
I used to see it as a guilty pleasure but now I realise it’s just a very empowering quick fix to feeling fantastic – and have no intention of stopping.
In fact, I’d go as far as to say that if I had to pick between self-pleasure or sex with my husband, I’d choose the former.
