Janet, 51, regrets settling down with her older husband John, 76, and tells Kirsten Jones why she’s on the hunt for a new toy.
I’m in heaven watching my latest eye candy strip away to reveal her rippling six-pack.
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Tall, dark and handsome, this dreamboat is all mine for the night.
I get lost tracing her perfect body until a loud cough drags me back to reality.
It’s not a 40-something heartthrob standing in front of me.
It’s my 76-year-old husband John, rotting in his stained armchair, picking crumbs from the digestive tract of his rickety dentures.
My reverie was ripped off like a plaster.
No wonder I’m desperate for my second sordid affair.
John stares into the distance, mouth open like he’s catching flies as the gears turn in his brain.
It’s the beginning of another day stuck in my age difference marriage.
This old man was once the love of my life.
Now it feeds on my energy and sucks my soul.
At 51, I am in the prime of my life.
My hair is shiny, I’m in great shape and even guys turn their heads when they see me.
This is why I’m finally fed up with my sexless marriage.
When it comes down to it, I’m shallow.
If my husband paid attention to me and gave me the love I craved, it wouldn’t make a difference.
The attraction truly disappeared, along with her youthful beauty.
It’s not like he tried to touch me anyway.
We haven’t had sex in eight years and, to be honest, I can’t be bothered trying to have sex with a man who, frankly, revolts me.
Plus, perimenopause made me dry as a prune and I had absolutely no sexual desire.
I didn’t mourn the death of our sex life, but I mourned what might have happened if, perhaps, I had married a younger man.
We grew further and further apart and now I find myself sharing a house with a man I barely look at.
Mind-blowing sex
We can go days without talking to each other, and as far as liking him, I’m afraid that spark has already disappeared. . . with him anyway.
Nine months ago, I started HRT to combat mental confusion, hot flashes and terrible mood swings.
What I didn’t know was that my sex drive would return like a steam train.
All I wanted was a date with a hot man who knew how to satisfy me.
No increase in libido was going to get me back into my husband’s bed.
Either way, I probably would have given him a heart attack if he had managed to do that.
I had to do something about my insatiable desire, so I had an affair.
In March, I met a tall, dark, and handsome man on Illicit Encounters, a dating site—and had mind-blowing daytime sex with him in a hotel room once a week for four months.
His muscular 46 year old body was very exciting compared to the withered old man I had at home.
Living so close to my secret fling meant we could have quick sex without arousing suspicion.
But unfortunately my affair is over – he was also married so it was never going to last – but I’m looking for another prince among the frogs.
It wasn’t always like this. I met my husband when he was 30 and he was 55.
At that time, he was at his peak. Well-built hair combed back, bright eyes. I felt like I was dating a movie star.
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I used to think of us as Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones.
He took me on summer holidays to Madeira, Italy and the South of France, where we drank cocktails on the beach.
At home, he would surprise me with meals at fancy London restaurants and make me feel special by doing silly little things like rubbing my back while he washed the dishes.
He was much more mature than the childish guys I’d dated before – and I was head over heels in love with him.
I thought we would grow old together. We got married, had our amazing son, but that’s when the magic died.
Although Catherine and Michael have stood the test of time, our love has crumbled like my husband’s teeth.
Looking back, I don’t think we ever had anything in common.
It was all these sophisticated experiments with his money that kept us together. I was young, naive, foolish.
We got married in 2014, and two years later the sex completely ended and he suddenly turned into an elderly stranger I didn’t recognize.
I have to leave the room when he eats because his teeth are broken and he looks like a cow chewing grass.
I have to leave the room when he eats because his teeth are broken and he looks like a cow chewing grass.
Janet
I despair when he takes the same soup-stained polo shirt out of the laundry basket to wear for the tenth day in a row.
Is it really too much to ask to be able to watch some trash TV in my living room without being interrupted by his disapproving rants as he sucks on another taffy?
He recently went up north to see his family and I couldn’t wait to get rid of him.
Four whole days without golf blaring through the TV speakers at full volume, without dirty hearing aids crumpled in used tissue paper around the living room.
Of course, I was his mother before he left.
He’s so old now that I have to remind him to take his medicine cocktail and pack enough faded Y-pants for a weekend trip.
I should be able to relax when he’s gone, but he makes me so nervous I’m like a coiled spring ready to shoot through the ceiling.
When I hugged him and said goodbye, I felt nothing but the bulges of his ribs through his threadbare sweater.
What happened to my well-dressed gentleman – and who is this grumpy old man who took his place?
I can’t get him to change. His stubbornness is unparalleled and, despite being deaf as a post, he doesn’t admit it.
So I spend my days shouting the dinner menu at the top of my lungs when he asks for the umpteenth time, “What’s for dinner?”
Prostate Checks
He never asks how I’m feeling or if I had a good day.
But he will tell you in detail how horrible the weather is – when he spends weeks without leaving the house.
He hates the 80s pop music I play in the kitchen and calls it “noise.”
He only watches black and white movies and has no idea what Traitors are.
Then there’s his health.
From countless hospital letters about blood pressure and prostate checks to his noisy pockets full of heart pills – and, of course, his precious bus pass – it’s a stark reminder of my husband’s aging body.
I’m tired of having to do everything for him – it makes me sick to have to be a mother and take care of an elderly man.
If you think a rich older man will take care of you, think again.
The situation changes and suddenly you are a full-time nurse. You’re probably wondering why I’m still with this old man.
Like so many other women, I’m stuck in a marriage because I feel too guilty about upsetting our child if we split up.
Of course, my teenager would probably get over it. But what if he didn’t?
And I enjoy the time we spend together as a family.
It is certainly better for my husband to be with a younger, happier woman who is keeping a secret than with someone who is unhappy.
I will be on hormone replacement therapy for the next five years or so until I come out of menopause.
I don’t know if I’ll lose my sex drive when I stop doing this, and I’ll be almost 60.
Nobody wants to have sex with a wrinkled old lady, so I’m making the most of it while I can.
Marriage is happier if you have an affair. These little outlets of passion and flirtation, sex and dating
Janet
Marriage is happier if you have an affair.
Those little outbursts of passion and flirting, sex and dating.
Any connection with another person makes you feel better about yourself and easier to get along with.
I suppose there are some advantages to staying with my elderly husband.
I have a pretty good roof over my head. I have financial security, I have my wonderful son. But that’s where it ends.
How can I leave a frail old man alone? What would people think of me? I feel trapped, with no way out.
Ladies, don’t let these age gap celebrity couples fool you.
You won’t marry a Hollywood stud who defies the barriers of aging.
We mortals don’t have millions of pounds to smooth out the cracks.
They are selling the dream, but the reality is a nightmare.
If you marry that old man and claim that you are happy, you are only deceiving yourself.
Think about your future. Don’t make the same mistakes I made.
This story originally appeared on The-sun.com read the full story
