By Daily Mail (U.S.) | Created at 2026-06-22 12:03:07 | Updated at 2026-06-23 01:26:07
14 hours ago
So men in their 40s are having more sex than anyone else. Who knew?
Academics at Estonia’s University of Tartu studied more than 67,000 adults aged between 20 and 84. After examining how sexual desire varies according to age, profession and relationship status, they discovered that men’s sexual appetite peaks in their early 40s.
Good on you, lads. I’m pleased for you, I really am. But a word of warning to all those 40-something lovers: enjoy it while it lasts. Having dated men in their 50s, I know what comes – or, more to the point, doesn’t come – next.
As someone who was stuck in a sexless marriage for more than a decade, when I got divorced in my late 40s, I felt like a lioness released from her cage. Or maybe a cougar. I had lots of lost time to make up. So I threw off the shackles of shame and experimented with dating several different age groups.
I can’t tell you anything about sleeping with men in their 20s because, as a 52-year-old, I drew the line at 29 or below.
But I can attest that men in their 30s have the energy and stamina of a Duracell bunny. Which is hilarious considering some of them worry they’re past it and lament the vitality of their ‘youth’ (youth being a very relative term).
Thirty-somethings are also admirably open-minded. They date older women by choice, not through desperation. They’re respectful of our age-earned experience and confidence. They don’t give a hoot that society may judge them for it, though dating a toyboy is far less controversial these days.
Last year was something of a watershed for older women dating younger men. It started in Hollywood with Nicole Kidman getting steamy with her intern in Babygirl and ended in Hebden Bridge with the BBC’s Riot Women gossiping about the sexual peccadilloes of 50-something Holly’s younger squeeze Jojo. Even Bridget Jones joined the revolution.
Perhaps one of the reasons mid-life women want to date younger is that, from my experience, single men in their 40s can be a slippery bunch.
As someone who was stuck in a sexless marriage for more than a decade, when I got divorced I felt like a lioness released from her cage, writes Florence Brightman [picture posed by models]
More stuck in their ways and burdened by baggage, they were harder to pin down and as avoidant as they come. Thanks to established careers and decent salaries, they were also a little too confident. This was the age group that messed me around the most.
And thanks to the University of Tartu, I now know why. They were clearly having far too much fun sowing their wild oats far and wide. But, sadly for them, this fertile period is unlikely to last.
I’ve had several ‘encounters’ with men in their 50s. Some great, most complicated. One recurring theme is them struggling to climax during sex.
I’ve since found out this is a common problem for the older gentleman. It even has its own name: anorgasmia. But until this moment of enlightenment, I had to face a few embarrassing situations where both of us made polite excuses. The favourite of which was: ‘Let’s save it up for later.’ We would smile sweetly at each other, even though both of us knew he was far too over the hill for a ‘later’.
More awkward still were the occasional ones who struggled to, shall we say, rise to the occasion at all. In your 50s, romantic dates that lead from restaurant to bedroom can end in disappointment. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a chance to rectify the situation in the morning, but by then, of course, the glamorous haze bestowed by that final glass of fizz at the bar has dissipated, leaving only puffy eyes and horrid breath.
When I went for a sexy weekend away in Brighton with a 53-year-old, not even morning testosterone – higher after a restful night’s sleep apparently – could give him the boost he needed.
We both spent our romantic getaway working hard to ignore the problem, which was exhausting. The only dirt in our dirty weekend was my moulting menopausal hair, which littered the bathroom floor and annoyed him no end. Needless to say, there weren’t any more weekends away.
Naturally, being a woman, I assumed I was the problem. I was obviously either unattractive, terrifying or way too demanding. So I went sobbing to my therapist.
I’ve had several ‘encounters’ with men in their 50s. Some great, most complicated. One recurring theme is them struggling to climax during sex [picture posed by models]
I spent six months with a man nearing 60 who had zero problems in the boudoir and gave me some of the best sex of my life
She consoled me by explaining that, thanks to natural ageing processes, there are three male sexual issues that intensify later in life: erectile dysfunction, the aforementioned anorgasmia and delayed orgasm (taking longer than 30 minutes).
When men are young, they dread it all being over too quickly. When they’re old, they dread the opposite. No wonder a man’s 40s is his sweet spot.
Fortunately, it’s not a given that all men’s sex lives will falter as soon as they hit 50. I spent six months with a man nearing 60 who had zero problems in the boudoir and gave me some of the best sex of my life. It helped that he was obsessed with cycling and had the fitness levels of a man decades younger.
I also dated someone who had taken himself off the market in his 40s to devote himself to single parenthood. By the time he launched himself back onto the dating scene in his early 50s, there was a lot of pent-up desire. That was fun.
For those men who are less lucky in the trouser department, I have nothing but empathy.
After all, menopausal women understand what it’s like to experience embarrassing sexual problems (there is no more horrific combination of words in the English language than ‘vaginal’ and ‘atrophy’). I certainly don’t want men to feel humiliated, denigrated or under even more pressure, particularly because pressure is the ultimate passion-killer. But I do wish we could be more open and honest.
Rather than claiming you’re ‘saving it up for later’, drop the pretence and face the facts. If there’s a real medical reason, then tell me – I will be nothing but sympathetic. And if there isn’t, perhaps consider those magical little blue pills.
Had my Brighton beau and I been more at ease with his wobble, we may have been able to enjoy our sexless weekend. We could have meandered around the lanes, hand-in-hand, rather than quietly blame ourselves and resent each other.
Florence Brightman is a pseudonym. All identifying details have been changed.
