In my early 40s, I ended a nearly two-decade marriage, climbed down from the top of the corporate ladder, and came out as bisexual.
When I started dating for the first time as a grown-up, I expected to feel lost and behind. Instead, I felt awake.
Now in my mid-40s, I’m sex-positive and ethically non-monogamous. I’ve dated couples, married folks, solo polys, kinksters, and vanilla types. I host play parties with heart, dance like a fool, and keep my tarot reader on speed dial. Next up: training in an often-misunderstood form of sexual healing. I’ve built a new community and grown closer to the old friends who love this version of me best.
Getting here took a decade of therapy, leaving my religion, unlearning its shame, and going no contact with the asshole who used to live in my head.
These essays are about saying “fuck it” and crafting a life that’s distinctively mine. It’s not a glow-up. It’s all the glorious fumbles you probably made at 25, and I’m making them now, with the lights on.
I write under a pseudonym because my body count would mortify my kids. But the stories are real.