After my husband's death, I can now reveal the truth about my sex life

Whatever activities I imagined I'd be doing on my honeymoon, phoning my mum in floods of tears wasn't one of them. But my husband Alan and I had just consummated our marriage - and it had been a huge disappointment.

Far from sensuous and thrilling, it was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it perfunctory affair.

And it didn't help that as soon as he'd finished, Alan sat himself down in front of the TV to watch football in the hotel where we were staying for a week after our wedding.

Convinced I had made a terrible mistake, I rang my mother and told her I wanted to come home. Not sure what to say, she put my dad on the phone, who reassured me it was just early days.

This was back in 1978 and you'd be forgiven for thinking that after getting to know each other's bodies, we went on to have a fulfilling sex life during our 35-year marriage. Particularly as we would have five children together.

But though I was devoted to Alan, who sadly died nine years ago having suffered from Parkinson's, I did not have a single orgasm in our entire marriage.

In fact, now 64, I have never had an orgasm with a man - or indeed without a man.

In our sexually liberated times, it can feel like I am the only woman in this frustrating predicament. We overshare in so many ways but female sexual gratification is still something of a taboo - especially for older women. 




Carole Baker, 64, was happily married for 35 years, during which she gave birth to five children. But she has never had an orgasm





Meg Ryan during her famous Celebrity Deep Fake orgasm scene in the 1989 film When Harry Met Sally

It's rare for us to talk about orgasms at all, let alone admit it doesn't happen for us.

Yet the so-called 'orgasm' gap - the number of men who climax as opposed to women - has long been observed in heterosexual relationships, with fewer than 50 per cent of women climaxing during intercourse, compared with 90 per cent of men. It tends to get worse as women get older and hormone levels decrease. More than a third of women who are peri or post-menopausal report sexual difficulties.

And it's generally accepted that about 10 per cent of women have never experienced an orgasm at all. That's a lot of women! It gives me some comfort to know I'm far from alone.

This might well come as news to men but even though it's 35 years since that famous diner scene in When Harry Met Sally, research shows women are still faking it. Studies show that between 30 and 75 per cent of women have faked an orgasm.

This is something I know all about; my husband never knew I hadn't ever reached climax. And yes, I made all the noises I'd seen women doing in films. I'm from a generation of women who believed it was a wife's duty to care for her husband's needs, whether putting dinner on the table or boosting his ego in bed.

In fact, it wasn't until I was well into my thirties - by then a mother of four - that I even discovered female orgasms existed, courtesy of reading magazines like Cosmo.

Though many people think of the '70s, when I was a teenager, as the time when women became sexually liberated, following the widespread use of the pill, the truth is there were still many women whose attitudes and awareness of sex were as constrained as ever.

It's fair to say I had a very sheltered upbringing. Growing up attending a Roman Catholic boarding school, sex was discussed very little, and certainly not with my mum, who was a nurse, and dad, an engineer.

My very limited knowledge came from biology lessons and what my friends and I could glean from the carry-on in our parents' bedrooms. We would ask one another, 'Do your parents still do it?', not really knowing what 'it' was. I assumed my parents had only done 'it' twice because they had two children - my younger sister and I.

My grandad had a farm, so at least I knew something about the mechanics - as far as animals were concerned anyway. But the idea that a woman could experience sexual pleasure? That notion was totally alien to me.

Perhaps things would have been different if my university experience hadn't been cut short.

I started a degree in archaeology and philosophy, having never had a boyfriend or even kissed a boy, but suffered a ruptured ovarian cyst in the first semester, which meant spending two weeks in hospital.

After such a traumatic episode, I went home for a month to recuperate, and found it difficult to fit in on my return. So I abandoned my studies and took a job working for a gas company.




Carole Baker at 19, the age she married her late husband Alan. She says she called her mother in tears after consummating their nuptials 

On the bus to work, I spotted a nice-looking man who would get on after me. I sat myself down next to him, mesmerised by his lovely blue eyes, and we got chatting. I discovered he was 11 years older than me. He seemed so mature and debonair. I really fancied him and so I gave him my number.

I was a 19-year-old virgin when we were married ten months later. The proposal happened quickly because I wouldn't 'go all the way' with him before marriage.

While with the benefit of hindsight I do wish I had slept with him before we settled down, it was unthinkable while living at home - particularly for Catholic girls like me.

Once married, we'd have sex a few times a week. My husband said he had been with other women but, on reflection, I don't think he was that experienced either.

His needs came first, not because he was innately selfish but because that's what the expectation was back then: it was all about a man's pleasure; a woman's enjoyment was secondary.

I did enjoy the closeness of sex, and I loved being kissed and the physical contact of being nuzzled. It wasn't painful or uncomfortable, more a bit boring at times.




In heterosexual relationships, fewer than 50 per cent of women climax during intercourse, compared with 90 per cent of men. Menopausal women also report experiencing difficulties

My grandmother had warned me that nice girls didn't enjoy sex and just had to put up and shut up, so I genuinely thought it was something to be endured.

It took a good two years for me to get pregnant with my eldest, which I put down to the ovarian op. I had my first at 25, second at 28, third at 30, fourth at 33 and the fifth was a surprise at 39.

I was the one enduring the sleepless nights - no division of labour between couples back then - so I had little energy to worry about sexual satisfaction. Sex was snatched when we could - not even the nights were safe after we got caught once by one of the children coming in and asking, 'What are you doing?' There was certainly no time for leisurely sensual exploration of each other.

That's not to say I gave up on the elusive orgasm. By this point the changing attitudes toward discussing sex meant I was fully aware of what I was missing out on. I'd read the advice columns and watched rom-coms, observing how people would perform once they were in bed together. That was how I learned to make 'oohing' and 'ahhing' noises, to reassure Alan I was enjoying it.

He never knew that I found our sex life underwhelming - I didn't know how to start the conversation without hurting his feelings and he never quizzed me further.

If anyone had asked him if we had a good sex life, he'd probably have said yes. He orgasmed every time.

Not that I ever told anyone else. Women didn't share such intimate secrets then - and despite the popular idea that we're all so much more open about sex these days, I'm not sure that they do now either. There's a big difference between telling your friends that you're having sex and going into the details.

Among my social circle, there might have been the odd comment at the mother and toddler groups about, 'Oh, God, he wants it again!' but that was as far as it went.

I was happy enough in my world - and I did love Alan dearly - but I started to wonder why I didn't experience the thrill that, according to the magazines, other women felt.

So at 53, when all but one of the children had finally left home, I got some books out of the library and started trying to understand what orgasms actually were. I saw that I had to get to know my own body and take charge in the bedroom more.

Now that I finally had time to give to my sex life, I started exploring different positions and instructing my husband. He was startled but happy (what man wouldn't be?) to give it a go. Much to my surprise, I started to enjoy sex a bit more.

But, still, orgasm eluded me.

Plenty of women say bringing themselves to climax is easier than having an orgasm through penetrative sex. But while I'm happy with what my body looks like, intimate exploration is not for me. I doubt that I'm alone in that among my generation.

Having spent three years being taught by nuns in a boarding school, those conservative views about sex and self-pleasure just never go away.

That said, a turning point for me was reading the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. I know the books have been dismissed as poorly written, but I believe they made it acceptable for women to have sexual desire, and I was among the many who found them very erotic. I read the first one after it was released in 2011 and the idea of getting dressed up and role playing was very appealing. I suggested it to my husband and life in the bedroom definitely got more exciting. Even though I still never climaxed, I enjoyed the anticipation.

We had three years of exploration - and who knows where it would have led if we'd been able to carry on - when sadly Alan died in 2015, aged 68, having suffered from Parkinson's.

I was 56 and it was the hardest thing I had ever been through. He was my rock and it took me a long time to recover.

A year later, a friend persuaded me to rekindle my social life. I joined a bereavement group, where I met David. I took a liking to him and we started a tentative relationship.

I'd never been with anyone else except my husband so was very nervous about sex.

We both worked together discovering what each other liked, but I was still too shy to bring up wanting to orgasm. And as time went on, it became impossible to mention. Our relationship lasted six years, ending amicably. I'm now single again.

I've certainly not given up hope about sex but I do think things need to change for women. We need to accept that a woman's pleasure is just as important as a man's.

I'm too busy for another partner right now - my dad is awaiting a hip operation and my eldest is having another baby - but I would like to meet someone eventually.

I definitely don't want to be with another older man, though. Men my age tend to be very needy. Perhaps a younger man with stamina who could show me the way forward, so to speak.

Just recently I was visiting my mum in hospital, following a minor procedure.

To give her a break I took her to the hospital coffee shop and got chatting to a chap while I was in the queue.

The conversation soon became somewhat flirty and he was easy on the eye, too. He seemed comfortable in his own skin, which I've always found attractive.

To my surprise, I imagined myself in bed with him. He obviously felt the same way because he told me he thought I was gorgeous.

Then he mentioned he was at the hospital visiting his wife. I was appalled and so when he asked for my number, I told him 'no'.

I only hope that finding a decent man isn't as hard as having an orgasm.


As told to Samantha Brick. Some names have been changed.