9 Lives | Chapter 8 | Part 2: The Hidden Landscape of Desire in Later Life

This article is part of a weekly series adapted from our latest book, "The 9 Lives of Woman" by Christine Marie Mason

Chapter 8: Glide | Part 2 | 

The Hidden Landscape of Desire in Later Life

Pleasure is another space where the myths of aging are being shattered. Sensuality in later years is no longer a secret, whispered in the corners of life. The truth is, for many women, their 70s are an era of renewed intimacy, of sex freed from performance and obligation, of touch for the sake of joy itself.

As our understanding of hormones, neurobiology, and the evolving nature of desire expands, so too does our collective awareness that sexuality is not tied to youth—it is tied to presence. Many women in their 70s find themselves exploring new dynamics: companionship without the need for marriage, lovers without expectation, pleasure for the sake of pleasure. Some deepen their connection to their own bodies through self-touch, movement, and practices like tantra. Some, for the first time in their lives, fully embrace themselves.

For centuries, cultural narratives have painted female sexuality as something that diminishes with age, a flame that flickers and dies out as fertility wanes. But the truth, as lived by many women and confirmed by the limited but growing body of research, is far more complex and far more interesting. Desire doesn’t simply vanish at 50, 60, or 70—it evolves, deepens, and, for some, even awakens anew.

And yet, the study of older women’s sexuality remains startlingly sparse. While research on men’s sexual health in later life has been robust—often framed around maintaining function and virility—the same level of inquiry has not been applied to women. The scientific literature that does exist often focuses on medicalized narratives: the impact of menopause, the effects of hormone shifts, or the mechanics of vaginal dryness. What’s missing is the lived experience, the nuanced emotional, relational, and erotic dimensions of female sensuality beyond midlife.

Sensuality and Intimacy in the Third Act

In the absence of extensive research, we turn to the voices of women themselves. Women like Aileen, whom I interviewed in the spring of 2023, is, at 70, not only sexually alive but more attuned to her body and desires than ever before. Her story is not an anomaly; it’s simply one that isn’t often told. In this chapter, we explore the quiet revolution of women reclaiming their sensuality in later years—how they navigate intimacy, pleasure, companionship, and self-acceptance in a world that often insists they should have faded into the background.

This is not just about sex. It’s about presence. It’s about the wisdom that comes with age—the ability to be in one’s body without shame, to enjoy pleasure without performance, and to define intimacy on one’s own terms. It’s about waking up, touching your own skin, and knowing that you are still here, still alive, still capable of deep and abiding joy.

Aileen is not the kind of woman who fades quietly into the background. At 70, she was as vital as ever—a lover of poetry, jazz, and slow mornings, which, if the temperature is cooperative, she spends wrapped in silk. A retired English professor living on the outskirts of Chicago, she spends her days teaching poetry workshops and in the garden. She lost her husband unexpectedly in her fifties, a loss that reshaped her understanding of love, desire, and what it means to be truly awake in one’s own skin. Instead of retreating into solitude, Aileen embraced the unknown—traveling, dancing, and rediscovering the language of sensuality on her own terms. She now shares her life, occasionally, with a new companion, Rob, though she insists on maintaining her independence.

How has your sexuality changed at 70?

Aileen: Oh, it’s changed, but not in the way people expect. When I was younger, sex was sometimes rushed—fitting it in between raising kids, grading papers, life pulling in every direction. Now, there’s no rush, no expectation to perform in a certain way. It’s deeper, more intentional. I don’t need to prove anything; I’m not worried about how I look or whether I’m doing it "right." I savor. I touch more, kiss more, linger more. And I’ll tell you this—pleasure doesn’t disappear with age. If anything, it’s become richer.

What was the impact of your husband's passing?

Aileen: Losing my husband cracked me open. We were married for thirty years, and I thought we’d have more time. I grieved, of course, but what surprised me was the awakening that came after. I realized I had been living in a role—wife, mother, professor—but there were pieces of me I had put away. I started dancing again. I booked a trip to Paris alone, just to sit in cafés and feel the world move around me. I started paying attention to my own body, my own desires, not as a response to someone else but as something belonging to me. Grief showed me how short life is, and I decided I wasn’t going to spend it shrinking.

How did you meet your new friend Rob?

Aileen: At a jazz club downtown. He was sitting at the bar reading a book—of all things! I leaned over and said, "You know, you could’ve just stayed home if you wanted to read." He looked up, smiled, and said, "And miss the music? Never." That was four years ago. Rob is… uncomplicated, in the best way. We adore each other, but we keep our own spaces. No expectations, no plans for merging lives. We meet for dinner, for dancing, for nights spent wrapped around each other, and then we go back to our own home. I love that freedom.

Do you think society understands or acknowledges sexuality in older women?

Aileen: Not at all. We’re expected to fade into the background, become “sweet” old ladies who bake pies and talk about our grandchildren. And if we do still embrace desire, people act like it’s either embarrassing or some kind of anomaly. But let me tell you, I know plenty of women my age who still want to be kissed senseless, who still wake up with heat in their belly. We don’t suddenly lose our humanity because our hair turns silver. If anything, we’ve earned the right to enjoy ourselves without shame.

What role does sensuality play in your daily life?

Aileen: Sensuality is everything. It’s the way I drink my coffee in the morning, the way I run lotion over my skin slowly, just for me. The way I sink my hands into the dirt in my garden, let the sun touch my face. I dress for tactile jo instead of throwing on an old T-shirt. I don’t wait for intimacy to come from someone else—I create it in the way I live.

What advice would you give to other women in their seventies who might feel hesitant about embracing their sensuality?

Aileen: Start small. Put on lipstick, if YOU like it, just for yourself. If YOU like it, buy the lace underwear, even if no one else will see it. Sleep naked. Touch yourself—not just sexually, but lovingly. Run your hands over your own arms, your belly, your thighs, and remember that this body has carried you through so much. Sensuality is not about youth; it’s about attention. The more you tend to your own pleasure, the more alive you will feel. And don’t let anyone tell you it’s too late. It’s never too late to wake up to yourself.