At 69, I’m seeing THREE devoted men at once – and no, I don’t plan to get married to any of them, says DEBBIE ARNOLD

Although it has taken me until the age of 69, I’ve finally found a man who makes me laugh, a man who takes me to wonderful restaurants and makes me feel like a lady, and a man who is fit, gorgeous and fantastic in bed.

The most important thing is that these three men never meet.

It’s a twist on an old gag, but in my case it’s entirely true. After two marriages and another long-term relationship, none of which provided lasting happiness, like many women my age I now reject the idea of focusing all my love and attention on one man.

I won’t swallow the lie that a partner to cook and care for is what every woman needs. In fact, there’s a sign in my kitchen that says: ‘The following four-letter words are banned in this house: cook, dust, wash, iron.’ Instead of recoiling at the idea of living alone as I head into the next decade, I love it. Of course, I still adore men, but as friends with benefits rather than a husband.

But please, do take your mind out of the gutter — of those three men I’m currently seeing, only one shares my bed.

Debbie Arnold, 69, is seeing three men at the same time in her ‘HRT harem’: Mr Old School, Mr Hilarious and, finally, Mr Sexy

So how does it work? At the moment, there are three main players in my HRT harem, as I like to think of it.

There is an older gentleman — let’s call him Mr Old School — who takes me to the most amazing restaurants, lavishes me with champagne and spoils me rotten.

He is erudite, respectful. I learn so much from him. He is also very married, although I don’t know his wife. There is absolutely no sex involved here, but he flirts with me and makes me feel fabulously feminine. He always picks up the tab, too, and would be insulted if I asked to go Dutch. I get the sense he would have liked to take things further but has never made the first move, and I date him for his brain not his physique.

Then there is my Mr Hilarious. I call him up when I’m feeling depressed or miserable and I say: ‘For God’s sake, take me out and make me laugh.’ And he does. The idea of sex with him, though? I’ll pass there.

He, too, flirts outrageously — he did once proposition me but I batted him away with the confidence born of years in the dating game, and he shrugged off my rejection with, naturally, a joke to clear the air.

The third man? Step forward Mr Sexy. This is the one who does often end up in my bed. He’s eight years younger than me and has a very glamorous life, always flying in and out of the country. I’m well aware that he’s a ‘player’ when it comes to women, but I can’t deny the frisson. And the sex is excellent.

Debbie reveals that she meets Mr Sexy once a month and often ends up in bed with him

We meet once a month or so and, because of the time gap, there is a newness and an urgency to each date that I find thrilling.

None of these men is going to end up as my third husband, though.

Like many divorcees, for a time I missed the security of home life with a partner. But after my last relationship ended seven years ago, I had an epiphany.

I realised traditional monogamy simply hadn’t worked for me. That I was done with the endless compromise of marriage.

And yet I had no intention of being celibate, so I would enjoy casual dating instead.

The first man I dated in this new life was much younger than me and worked in the motor trade. The sex was good, but he simply couldn’t get his head around the fact that I didn’t want a relationship. Things ended between us when he caused a scene about it at a party, and my ex’s former boss had to step in.

Next, there was a soldier with a lovely physique. He took me to the Lake District for a romantic weekend but the passion soon fizzled. You can’t hike in high heels, and I realised he was a bit too outdoorsy for me.

Then there was the man who flew me first-class to New York for an all–expenses paid week of Broadway shows. I had a blast. When we got back, he asked me to move in with him — and I realised I had no interest in sharing my life entirely.

I can’t imagine having a man and all his stuff in my space now. Even the thought of all those big shoes cluttering up the place makes me shudder.

And I’ve learned that it’s so often about control for them. Before you know it, they want to spend every second with you. It’s suffocating.

I’ve been looking after people since I was 30 — partners, children, grandchildren — and my freedom is too precious to sacrifice again.

Now, I get to choose how I spend my time. Chocolate martinis and a lover one night, then a big bowl of pasta and a true crime documentary the next.

The other thing many men my own age are looking for is a live-in carer. I’d prefer to run a mile from that one, thank you.

As a successful professional woman with her own lovely home, I don’t need a man for stability.

Indeed, my ideal home life would involve me and five girlfriends living in a great big house by ourselves — with men allowed in only for sex and to mend any leaking taps.

You see, my generation wants more, in every sense. I have a whole network of single female friends — some divorced, some widowed, some who have never been married — who feel the same way.

At this stage of our lives, we’re so very different to women in their 60s just a few decades ago.

We’ve had fulfilling careers. We’re in great shape physically (thanks to diet and fitness, with occasional cosmetic tweaks such as Botox and laser resurfacing). Thanks to HRT, the hormones are still working, too, so we still have quite high sexual demands.

But, while we still want to have sex, we don’t necessarily want the men — those who can still manage it — in our beds the next morning.

As a friend said: ‘I just love how my bed smells when it doesn’t smell of a man.’ And that’s entirely true. My bed — when it’s just me (and my three dogs) — smells of lavender and loveliness. I adore waking up alone each morning.

Her friend says: ‘I just love how my bed smells when it doesn’t smell of a man,’ but Debbie insists she loves waking up alone, with her dogs, each morning to the smells of lavender and loveliness [stock image]

Yes, I put up with a man in my bedroom for many years. But I realise, in retrospect, that it was a bit of a trial.

I’ve always been pernickety about how my space smells and looks. My first husband was the actor John Challis, most famous for Only Fools And Horses, and he used to complain that our bedroom was so pink and girly, he could do with a train set on the ceiling for balance.

I have had a complicated history with men, as many women have at my age. I married John in 1980 when I was 25. He was 13 years my senior and I’d never met anyone as funny or wonderful as him.

As an only child whose father died when I was seven, I also longed for children and a family. So I was bitterly disappointed when it didn’t work out.

We stayed great friends, even helping each other through the split, but a break-up is always difficult. I remember getting a dog afterwards and calling him Lover, thinking at least I’d have one lover who was faithful to me. I also took great delight in being able to shout, ‘Lover, come back’ in the park.

My second marriage was to another actor, David Janson, and together we had my two gorgeous daughters, Ciara and Talia. There was a smaller age gap between us — he was only five years older — and we were together for 18 years. That split was more traumatic, but we are finally friends now, too.

Then it was on to another long-term relationship, which was on and off for around 14 or 15 years. I call him Mr Unflushable because, no matter how many times I tried to get rid, he kept coming back. We would split up and get back together until the day one of my daughters said: ‘Mum, this should be the sort of relationship I have, not you.’ She was right.

So while I still believe in marriage and romantic love — I’m thrilled to say my younger daughter got engaged last week — I myself am simply beyond them.

I’ve tried all sorts of dating — online, being set up on a blind date — and concluded that those things simply don’t work.

I see women my age fumbling with dating apps, desperate to meet a lovely, safe man and settle down, and I want to rip their phones out of their hands.

I wish more of us recognised the joy of being alone at this stage of life, and refused to squash ourselves into a reductive set of facts, preferences and one-liners for a dating app profile. Our experience is too rich, our wisdom too hard-earned for that.

So how do I find my male friends-with-benefits? I find the best time is when I’m out walking the dog, or simply through friends.

And I met Mr Sexy when I organised a massive singles party for anyone in my area when we came out of lockdown. We had 250 people show up, which just shows how many of us are out there, eager for connection and joy in our lives.

These days, I go to bed only with men who, like me, are content to keep things casual. They don’t want a longer-term relationship with me any more than I want one with them.

I have had some duds. There was one, let’s call him Mr Sell-by-Date, who tried so hard to impress me. He said he wanted to cook me a meal, but then he turned up at my house with a load of yellow sticker food from Sainsbury’s that needed to be used that day.

Far worse, he then started making comments about how I was still working in my late 60s.

I’ve always considered myself a career woman. I got into the entertainment business at 18, impersonating Marilyn Monroe on a show called Who Do You Do?.

In my 60s, I’m working more than ever. I recently took my clothes off in a theatre production of Calendar Girls — a first for me, and something I was very proud of.

But Mr Sell-by-Date made it sound as if I was past my sell‑by-date. He said: ‘Isn’t it time you wound down?’

I could have clocked him. I thought: ‘Maybe you’ve given up, but there’s life in the old girl yet.’

I’d have been tempted to give up on men altogether, if it wasn’t for the sex. People are so coy about this but, yes, women of my age are still having sex. There was a report in The Lancet last year about how people do not become asexual with age.

In one study in England, 60 per cent of women in their 60s reported being sexually active. In Sweden, even 10 per cent of those older than 90 reported being sexually active, which makes me want to move there pronto.

Obviously, some friends don’t agree. I do have a few who say they are not interested any more and, frankly, I’m sad for them.

There is a wonderful scene in TV series The Morning Show where Jennifer Aniston has just had fantastic sex and looks in the mirror and says: ‘Well, it still works.’ That spoke to me.

I do like the sort of sex that requires a man, too. Obviously, there are substitutes but they tend to come in a box and leave me cold. I find myself looking at the box thinking: ‘Is this it for the rest of my life?’ I love human contact, and sex is part of that for me.

There is another problem here, though. The sex I have been having lately — no-strings sex, I’m happy to admit — has been with younger men, because men my own age often have trouble with performance in bed.

I’d say that with most men my age it’s an issue.

It’s not the end of the world if you are in a relationship and know the person well, but it is a problem if you have just met, and the first you know of it is when you are in bed.

Debbie hopes to continue her healthy sex life into her 70s and 80s… but admits it takes work to make sure you are ‘still ready’ to do so at that age

Of course, it can be nerve-racking for a woman, too. I am naturally confident but sex is not straightforward at our age.

It takes work to make sure you are still . . . ready, shall we say. Just as you work at staying in shape, you have to acknowledge that your body just doesn’t work in the way it used to.

For me, HRT is the great game-changer. I have been on it for nearly 20 years, and will continue to take it.

So if you’re a single woman in your 60s or above, please know you can be perfectly happy on your own — and it doesn’t mean you have to learn to love celibacy, either.

And for younger women, there’s no need to approach the next few decades with dread. It peeves me that we now read so much about how debilitating women find the menopause. Awareness is great, but there is life beyond 55.

I hope still to have a healthy sex life in my 70s and 80s. I do not believe there is an expiry date on sexual currency, on desire itself, because it’s part of who we are. And, while I have called time on the need for a husband, I hope I shall always want my HRT harem. Applications welcome.

Debbie Arnold hosts Beauty Investigates with Debbie McGee on Ayozat TV, Sky 186 and YouTube.

As told to Jenny Johnston.