Laura, 32: "A world I thought was out of reach"

My name is Laura, I blew out my 32nd candle this year, and I have never felt so at home in my own body. 

I grew up in the north of France, in a rather strict family. As a child, I wanted for nothing — except perhaps a little freedom and lightness.

Since I was little, I have been passionate about books — they are the way I found to escape the everyday and dare to step outside the frame. Books truly taught me everything: about myself, about relationships, about seduction and even about sexuality.

It was a subject I never broached with my parents, and inevitably, from the age of 15 or 16, I needed answers. 

I devoured love novels, guides and graphic novels on the subject. My personal favourite at the time? The Flame and the Flower by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss, published in 1972: a classic of historical romance that I recommend to every woman. 

After a degree in communications, I immediately wanted to start working.

For weeks, I approached every bookshop in my city until someone gave me my chance. I was barely 20, and it was at that moment that I also began to flirt with men. For real, I mean — beyond my own mind and fantasies. Before that, I think I never truly felt I had permission to.

After 2 or 3 genuinely disappointing encounters, I met Thomas at a party. The chemistry between us was immediate. The conversation flowed, the attraction was there. 

Less than 2 years after we met, I fell pregnant. We were using contraception, so it wasn't really planned, but I had no hesitation whatsoever. 

Mathilde's first months were inevitably difficult and exhausting. She took a very long time to sleep through the night — she was a baby who demanded a great deal of attention. For my part, I was prepared for this reality; I had anticipated this change of pace, but I think Thomas had not truly grasped what becoming a parent actually entailed. 

At first, I didn't hold it against him at all. After all, we were young, he too wanted to invest his energy in his career, and he always took care of me. He was doing his best, truly.

But it's true that exhaustion overwhelms everything. Inevitably, our intimacy suffered, as did my libido. I no longer had the mental space or the energy to devote to our sex life. In the first year, we couldn't even find a moment together for dinner or a film.

When I sensed that he was pulling away, I took the initiative. I finally dared to ask for help from our friends and family so they could look after Mathilde at least once a week. I threw myself into it to rekindle the flame: romantic dinners, flirtatious messages, fine lingerie, playful games… I tried everything to breathe new life into our intimacy.

At first, it worked reasonably well, but I was always the only one taking initiative. Being a mother, a bookseller, a woman and a lover… I could no longer give a hundred percent to all these roles. Thomas was growing distant, and nothing I put in place was enough to keep him. I could see that he was somewhere else, that he no longer wanted to invest in our relationship.

I came to realise that we had become housemates, co-parents at best. I was no longer desirable in his eyes. That realisation hurt me deeply, especially after all the efforts I had made to save our relationship. 

Our daughter wasn't even two years old when I did what I thought I would never do: go through his phone while he was in the shower.

I don't know whether it was exhaustion, fear, or simply instinct, but I found what I had been dreading.

A conversation with a woman I didn't know, going back several months. Messages, photos, words… All that attention that was no longer meant for me. 

I read it, reread it, again and again. And it was devastating. Not only because he was betraying me, but because I felt invisible. Replaced. Humiliated. Even though I know now that it makes no sense, I compared myself to her, I analysed every detail, every photo.

I confronted him. He didn't deny it. He didn't fight. He didn't even try to hold on to me.

He let me file for divorce. He signed the papers. And it was over. 

After that, I disappeared a little myself. I became simply a mother. Efficient, organised, always there for my daughter, but no longer a woman at all. My body, my desire — as though erased. Even self-pleasure had become impossible for me, as if my mind had closed that door.

I went back to work, met people, tried to rebuild myself. But it was never enough. I felt empty, and guilty for feeling empty.

Six months after the divorce, I finally spoke about it to a friend. She was seeing a sex therapist as part of couples therapy, and she gave me her contact details. I made an appointment — partly out of curiosity, partly out of desperation.

On the day of the appointment, I could barely speak without dissolving into tears. I told her everything that was weighing on my heart: the divorce, the betrayal, my exhaustion, my anger, my shame…

She looked at me, patiently, and then she said something I will never forget:

« You have the right to become a woman again. You have the right to be modest, and you also have the right to pleasure. »

Just that. Three sentences. And yet it hit me like a wave. My husband had stolen nothing from me. My body, my pleasure — they were still mine.

For the first time in months, I felt seen, whole, legitimate in my desire. She explained that one could be modest, that one could take pleasure without shame, that pleasure was not a betrayal, nor a luxury, nor a whim. That I could be a mother, work, love… and experience pleasure fully.

That small shift was enormous. As if someone had given me back the right to breathe for myself, to think of myself.

Before I left, she had scribbled on a post-it:

1969

And the name of a clitoral massager: the Wand

« Start here, » she said. « Take it gently. Come back afterwards. »

I ordered. The parcel sat on my bedside table for an entire week. I looked at it — a little wary, a little excited, a little ashamed. I was waiting for the right moment to open it. 

Then one weekend, Mathilde was at her father's, and I dared. 

At first, I simply ran the toy over my skin to explore my arms, my thighs, my stomach… rediscovering forgotten areas of my body. I was no longer used to touching myself just for me. And it was delicious. I hadn't known that the inside of my thighs was so sensitive — I had never taken the time to discover my body in my past relationships. Neither had my partners, for that matter.

Then I brought the Wand close to my clitoris. I hesitated for a moment, heart beating fast, as though I were about to cross a forbidden boundary. I switched on the gentlest vibration, and I breathed — slowly, again and again — as if to reassure myself that I had every right to be there and that I was doing nothing wrong.

And then, I combined the Wand with the caress of my body. The sensation… I had never felt anything like it. A warmth that flooded everything, an immense release, as though every corner of my body had been holding something for years that it finally had the right to let go.

At first, it was quick, overwhelming. I didn't know where to place my hands, how to breathe through a sensation that rose so swiftly. And then I began to listen to my body. To breathe with the rhythm, to draw out the pleasure, to explore by combining touch and vibration. I didn't even want penetration — everything was perfect just as it was. 

Every little pulse became a discovery, a shiver, a tremor I had never taken the time to feel.

Multiple orgasms, control over the rise of desire — a world I believed was closed to me, which opened in an instant.

When I heard my friends talk about multiple orgasms, I thought they were exaggerating a little — I didn't think it was actually possible. How wrong I was. 

I don't feel ready to meet someone, but I feel alive and connected to my femininity, more attuned to my desire. My libido is awakening, gently, and with it, a part of me I thought was lost.

I went back to see my therapist a few weeks later. We spoke about what I had discovered, about the pleasure I had finally allowed myself to feel. She encouraged me to keep exploring, to relearn my body, to listen to my desires.

Today, I am not necessarily searching for love at any cost, but I know that I can gift myself pleasure, take time for myself, and savour my sensations. I want to keep exploring, to try new pleasure objects — it's true that the Rabbit has been catching my eye..

I have only one desire: to enjoy this newfound freedom, just for myself.