AFTER popstar Sinitta extolled the benefits of sober sex, journalist Samantha Rea decided to try it out.
Here she reveals what happened when she quit alcohol for three weeks.
I’ve had my fair share of drunken sex in my time.
So when I read last month that pop star Sinitta said “sex is better if you’re not drinking”, it got me thinking.
In past relationships, alcohol has been a big part of my sex life.
I’ve had dates where we’ve stayed out late for “one more drink” — then conked out when I got home and been too hungover to make up for it in the morning.
Then there’s my snoring.
Alcohol makes it worse and after a few glasses of wine I sound like a tractor struggling to start (my exes have been known to sleep in separate rooms to get away from me, which rather kills the passion).
Even if you’re in the same room, who really wants to frolic amid the stench of stale wine?
I’m 42 and currently in the early days of a new relationship.
We’ve only been seeing each other for six weeks, but I think he might be The One so I want it to last — which means I want to get everything right this time, including making sure we have great sex.
So I decided to give Sinitta’s sober sex spree a go for three weeks — and the results were simply astounding . . .
I START my booze-free spell on a Tuesday.
It’s the night of an Arsenal game and my new man has spent the evening at the match with his mates.
Extra time and penalties mean it’s gone 1am when he gets in — and even though he’s had a few bevvies and it’s late, I am raring to go . . . something I know would not be the case had I been boozing.
We engage in a full-on early hours sex session and it’s fantastic.
The next day I distract myself from thinking about how much I’m missing having a glass of my favourite red wine with dinner by booking tickets to a burlesque show.
Chatter turns to kinky outfits and after dinner I nip upstairs and change out of my yoga bra and mismatched multipack knickers into some stockings and a suspender belt that requires the sort of nimble-fingered dexterity that can only be mastered sober.
My man is beyond happy and although we’ve already had sex that morning, we seal the day with two more explosive orgasms.
The following day we bonk midafternoon between video calls.
We put it down to how much more energised we feel from booze-free sleep.
The sober frolicking is fun, and after a postcoital nap he asks if I fancy a curry — with a non-alcoholic beer.
Back home we have another fumble under the duvet before falling asleep.
The weekend rolls on and with no boozy plans I decide to watch my man play in a tennis match.
I am so aroused by his sporting prowess that I’ve ripped his clothes off before we even get up the stairs afterwards.
I’m one week in and already think Sinitta’s on to something here.
WE start the second week strongly with sex twice before breakfast, which definitely wouldn’t have happened on a hangover.
We’re out and about all day then we go to the gym in the evening.
This raises my “RAAAAH!” levels, so after a prawn Thai curry, we head to bed and bonk again.
It doesn’t even occur to me to have a drink with dinner, and my bloke doesn’t have one either, so we’re both on form for fun before we go to sleep.
If there had actually been wine in my glass I might have nodded off before the bonking commenced
The following day the alarm goes off at 7am and, without a drop of booze in our systems, we’re wide awake.
While we’re supposed to be on our way to a footie match, our libidos do not comply with the planned schedule and we spend half an hour wrapped round each other going: “No, we mustn’t. We’ve really got to get up.”
But my man is up already, at least in the trouser department, and this really isn’t helping us get out of bed.
Finally at 7.30am we snap into action and somehow make it to the match in time. It’s a long day, and I have to work when I get home.
By the time I finish it’s gone 11pm and I would like to go to sleep, but my new squeeze has been hinting about me wearing something nice to bed so I give him the stockings and suspenders shebang again.
We have sex the next few days too.
On Friday we are heading to the Cotswolds for a romantic weekend in the middle of nowhere.
We stop at the nearest town for supplies, where he buys himself a bottle of red and me some zero-alcohol sauvignon blanc.
We arrive at our quaint country cottage and my bloke bangs his head on the bedroom ceiling — and that is not the only banging going on that night.
If there had actually been wine in my glass I might have nodded off before the bonking commenced, but with a clear head I’m happy to frolic.
The next morning we are at it again before breakfast.
That evening we go to the local pub and I have a non-alcoholic gin and tonic.
That night there is some seriously steamy sex which would definitely not have occurred if I’d been on the gin.
After an afternoon of non-alcoholic beers in the pub we head home and have sex in the shower and I feel less bloated than I normally would after an alcoholic beer — and less gassy.
On the Monday I’m heading into London for a couple of days, so we have sex twice before getting out of bed.
If I’d actually been drinking the day before, this would have never happened.
So far my fortnight of sober sex has been a winner.
On the way to a burlesque night at the start of week three, my man admits he is keen for the experiment to be over so we can enjoy some “dirty drunk sex”.
I tell him that it’s only for another week or two . . . but when we arrive we are handed the cocktail list and right at the top is my favourite Old Fashioned.
I try to resist but it’s no use.
The pull of an Old Fashioned is more than I can say no to and I fall off the wagon.
Over the evening, I make my way through four of them.
In the Uber home, I have the giggles and when we get in, we head straight to the bedroom.
My man noticed earlier that I wasn’t wearing knickers and he tells me he’s spent all evening thinking about it.
The sex is as hot as ever but afterwards I fall asleep without taking my make-up off and neither of us brush our teeth.
We wake up grimy.
Ive got foundation and mascara on the pillow cases, leaving me with a smudged, streaky face.
I feel tired, hungover and yukky.
There is no sex this morning.
This flashback to alcohol-fuelled nights has made me realise just how much better sex is when I’m not drinking.
I’m disappointed in myself for falling off the wagon but it’s a good reminder of why my sex life is better sober.
And although I’ve only agreed to do this for a month, I think I’ll be carrying it on.
