I’m happily married with two teenagers and a good social life… but when I’m in bed with my husband I fantasise about him being a woman. Have I been living a lie? BEL MOONEY replies

Dear Bel,

My problem won’t seem real, because it doesn’t hurt anybody. But it disturbs me to wonder whether there’s a whole side of myself unexplored – and therefore betrayed.

It’s weird, but while on the outside I am a normal heterosexual woman with the age of 50 on the horizon, there’s a secret self wondering what it would be like to be gay.

When I was in my 20s and working in advertising I was what you might call ‘hot to trot’. I liked sex and went through a stage of being quite ‘busy’. I couldn’t think why I shouldn’t and had a lot of fun.

For example, I had a one-night stand when on a business trip to Manchester. The sex was great but afterwards I just ghosted the guy.

I had to go back about nine months later and met him again and he was hurt. He told me he really thought we had a connection and would see each other again.

I smiled, shrugged and said: ‘Ships that pass in the night!’ I thought, men have done that to women many times, so why shouldn’t I?

I married Jimmy at 30. We get on very well, so no problem at all. We still make love (I say that, not ‘have sex’, because we do love each other), have two teenagers, a boy and a girl, and a good social life. Everything’s fine.

But about a year ago our company wanted everybody pictured for a new website and the photographer was a very good-looking, assertive woman, quite butch in a way, and I found her very attractive.

She paid me lots of compliments, which I loved, and after the session we went for a drink. I found myself not wanting to go home.

I’ve seen her several times since and met some of her friends – all cool, artistic women I really like. One in particular is very flirty with me and I flirt back, but I’m scared of anything more. These feelings are so new – and very strange.

It makes me ashamed that when my husband and I are in bed together I fantasise that he’s female. Obviously there’s a certain difference!

Still my imagination runs riot. It’s like being unfaithful to the man I love.

What if I’ve been living a lie? What if my fantasies are the real ‘me’, and I should seek out lesbian love before I get much older?

The thought is exciting but I can’t talk about it to anybody.

VICKY

Bel Mooney replies: It’s surprising you say you ‘can’t talk about it to anybody’, because my first thought is that these attractive, ‘cool, artistic women’ would be only too pleased to chat with you in detail about these secret thoughts!

In fact, I rather suspect that when you ‘flirt’ with that particular woman you dance around the possibility with amused hints.

That’s what men called being a something-tease, isn’t it? Of course, there’s no harm in any of it. I’m all for flirting and fun in these dreary times.

What’s more, there’s also no harm at all in your secret curiosity. Or shall we call it yearning?

I happen to know that many women have lesbian fantasies.

The American author Nancy Friday published her most famous book in 1973. Called My Secret Garden: Women’s Sexual Fantasies, it was riveting reading, especially as a huge number of the heterosexual women she interviewed admitted becoming excited by lesbian thoughts.

It’s a very long time since I had a copy on my bedside table but, as far as I can remember, few of such respondents felt the need to rush out and find willing girlfriends – the delightful fantasies were fun enough. Since even now more than 10,000 women each year buy a new copy of Friday’s book, that suggests perennial fascination with the nature of desire.

The book has been called a feminist classic because of its absolute honesty and lack of shame.

I know an attractive, enthusiastically heterosexual woman in her early 40s who once told me: ‘I just love the company of women, so it would be much easier if I was gay!’

Of course, that’s not true. Humans can have relationship problems whatever their sexual orientation.

We can also be attracted to either sex, or to both sexes at once. These days, who cares?

That’s why, given what you say about your enjoyment of sex in the past and the healthy relationship with your husband, it surprises me you are so perturbed by these relatively new thoughts.

Why do you wonder if they represent the ‘real me’ – as if you have to make some sort of choice between sexualities?

Why can’t this curiosity about making love with women be just another part of the interesting whole person which is you?

Of course you’re not being ‘unfaithful’ to your husband. In fact, I suggest you tell him about your fancies in a light-hearted way, allowing him into this aspect of yourself. He might like it.

And I wouldn’t ‘seek out’ anything. I’d relax, enjoy life and go with the flow.

No empathy for lasting sting of widowhood

Dear Bel,

I am finding everything so confusing and feel so alone. My late husband was also my best friend – always there with love and support. Not any more.

I have four new friends and I’m doing my best to keep busy but am coming to the conclusion I’m last in the queue for family attention. It’s hurtful, like physical pain.

Both my children lead busy lives with exacting careers. It has been me initiating visits.

Sometimes, they’ve invited me to their houses, but not often. They never contacted me to suggest get-togethers or ask how I was coping.

My grandchildren are teenagers, becoming more independent, but none think to phone me occasionally. I miss them so much.

Last Sunday was the third anniversary of my late husband’s death.

I hadn’t heard from any of them for several days prior and it was left to me to invite the whole family to come for cake and a cuppa. However, I felt they all did so under sufferance.

Since then, nothing. I’ve made a big decision to see how long it takes for them to get in touch. Is this wise – or should I continue being the first to contact them? I feel very alone. I suspect because I’ve tried to be as independent as possible my children think I’m coping. But I’m still mourning and it overwhelms everything. What shall I do?

EVA

Bel replies: Your original letter was three times as long, telling me bravely about the friends you have made and how you try to keep busy, get deliveries of food, organise taxis for your hospital visits and so on.

Seemingly proud of that independence, your tone was determinedly positive and I do admire that.

But the crux is your sad feeling of neglect by the people you love most, and I’m sure there are many readers who understand exactly what you are saying.

As for others – I beg you to listen to the important message in Eva’s letter.

Why is it universally important? Well, you could look at it selfishly and consider that the love and attention you give older family members will one day be needed by you.

If the teenagers aren’t encouraged to pay attention to Gran, then why would they, as adults, give love and care when their own parents grow old?

Viewed unselfishly, doesn’t this touch on a fundamental duty of the ‘tribe’? Looking out for elderly family members and neighbours should be a part of who we are as citizens of a healthy and stable society.

Looking after ageing parents can be tiring and taxing (I know this), but the trick is to isolate the moments of satisfaction, even joy. In your uncut letter, you say you understand that your grief will probably never change. That’s why the term ‘move on’ is irrelevant. You have learned to live with sorrow but badly need support to carry its weight.

I’m sure a large part of your deep hurt arises from a feeling that your family is not just neglecting you but also neglecting the memory of a loving father and grandfather. They seem to have moved on, and it’s devastating to you.

I understand completely, but will just point out, very gently, that families rarely remember the anniversaries which become so significant to the bereaved. Inevitably the pressures and pleasures of everyday life roll on for them, not because they are selfish and unloving but because they are just a bit careless – and that’s how it is.

I don’t advise the ‘going silent’ strategy because it could rebound and hurt you more. But I do believe you need to tell your two adult offspring that you need them. Yes, straight out.

Let them know how much you miss their father. Ask whether they do, too. Communication is the only way forward.

The day will come when you are not so able to cope as you are at the moment, therefore they should understand that no matter how busy they are, they need to create habits of care.

I took my parents a hot meal every Wednesday and had them over for Sunday lunch every single week and it meant the world – not just to them, but also to me, in memory, now they’ve gone.

And finally… 

Tough love stands the test of time 

What is ‘tough love’? Taking people’s problems seriously by telling them what they may not want to hear.

Sometimes verbal ‘stroking’ and sympathy isn’t enough; occasionally they really do need to be reminded to pull themselves together and crack on with their lives.

It’s always a source of quiet satisfaction to me when, over the years, I’ve heard back from those to whom I gave a little ‘shove’ – and been told it turned out I was right.

When I give talks, people love those examples – maybe because we can all acknowledge the need (from time to time) for a sprinkle of cold water.

Naturally, opinions differ. A very thoughtful, intelligent email arrived from American Virginia M – very critical of my tone (two weeks ago) to ‘Stephen’.

He was complaining that he and his wife don’t talk but she brushes off his concerns. In brief, I wanted him to be more pro-active in that marriage – and briskly told him so.

Virginia disapproved. A counsellor herself, she wrote: ‘People are encouraged more by understanding and empathy rather than harsh criticism… You already do a lot of good with your column, but this one was harmful in some ways… by… being harsh with a suffering soul.

‘You can be a much more effective counsellor with a more gentle, understanding touch, while still giving honest, direct advice. Try the honey instead of the vinegar.’

That made me smile. I reckon I do serve up plenty of ‘honey’ in this column and know how good it is for body and soul.

But in cooking I also use balsamic (a touch of sweetness there) as well as sherry, wine and apple vinegar. We need the sweet and the sour.

Because ‘be kind’ doesn’t always do the job. You have to be honest, too.

Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 9 Derry Street, London W8 5HY, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. Names are changed to protect identities. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.