Waking up in bed, I turned to find my husband with a big grin on his face.
“Crikey, that was unlike you last night!” Charlie said.
“How do you mean?” I responded, confused.
When Charlie said I’d started grinding on him in the middle of the night and we’d then had sex, I was stunned.
“No we didn’t!” I replied.
But he was adamant it’d happened.
“Well it can’t have been that good, babe, because I don’t even remember it,” I said, laughing.
A few months later, Charlie told me the same thing happened again.
I was sure he was winding me up.
“You looked awake, but I think you were asleep,” he explained.
It was 2019, and I was no stranger to hearing about the unusual things I’d done in my sleep, which I could never recall.
I’d been sleepwalking since I was a child – a condition I had inherited from my dad.
He was a night shift worker who’d often aggressively punch the air in his sleep.
Throughout my life there’d been plenty of times I’d woken up on the floor because I’d fallen out of bed.
Other times, I discovered I’d sent an incoherent text message to a friend or realised I’d been cleaning in my sleep.
One morning, I found some rubber gloves and cleaning spray next to our perfectly spotless basin.
This must’ve been me because Charlie never cleans! I thought.
Charlie, who I’d been with for almost a decade now, was very familiar with my sleepwalking and talking habits.
“You were babbling something about a lemon tart and a scarf last night,” he once told me.
But the idea that I was now having sex in my sleep with no memory of it happening still seemed too baffling to believe.
“I’m going to set up a camera and prove it to you,” Charlie said.
Night after night, he recorded us sleeping on his phone until one day he showed me a video.
As I watched myself straddling and grinding on Charlie in the middle of the night, my jaw dropped.
“Oh my God, I don’t remember doing that!” I gasped.
After I came to accept that this was really happening, I gave Charlie consent to have sex with me in my sleep.
“If I initiate it, then I’m fine with it,” I told him, which he was more than happy to agree to.
Charlie was already dealing with the downsides of having a sleepwalking partner, like having to coax me back to bed when I wandered around the house, or hiding the car keys and gas stove knobs so I can’t drive or cook in my sleep, so it only seemed fair that he got to enjoy some perks, too!
As much as I could see the humorous side, I started to worry that I might have some condition like dementia.
“You should go see a doctor about it,” Charlie suggested when I expressed my concerns to him.
So, in 2021, I finally plucked up the courage to visit a GP and tell him about my sleep sex issue, and he performed some basic memory tests.
“Your memory seems fine,” he reassured me. “I think you have sexsomnia.”
“What’s that?” I replied.
The doctor explained it was a rare form of parasomnia – the group of disorders that cause abnormal behaviours during sleep.
Having a name for my condition was a big relief, especially after I researched sexsomnia online and found other people with similar experiences to me.
My GP referred me to a sleep specialist who could help treat the condition.
I decided going on medication wouldn’t be worth it since I was only experiencing sexsomnia a few times a year.
I’ve implemented more precautions to keep me safe, like double locking the doors, after a few worrying incidents.
One night, a year ago, Charlie heard the front door open and saw me wandering the streets naked.
Luckily, he was able to cover me up and bring me inside before the neighbours spotted me.
Six months later, Charlie found me in the backyard trying to escape through the padlocked gates.
“You were growling and calling out for ‘young meat’,” he told me. “You looked like you were possessed.”
It was mortifying, but I had to laugh. I’m a vegetarian so we both knew I wasn’t looking for a steak!
Fortunately, Charlie has always been very understanding about my condition and knows I’m a loyal wife who’d never intentionally cheat on him.
But it did make me worry about what could happen if I ever escaped during a bout of sexsomnia.
What if I accidentally end up in bed with my friend’s husband? I worried. Or a stranger?
Now, I always cable tie the door if I sleep in a hotel or at a friend’s place to make sure this never happens.
I warned my friend Heidi about my condition when I stayed at her home one night. Luckily, she was supportive.
“I wouldn’t mind if my wife had that problem!” her husband said after he overheard our conversation.
I’m not sure what’s caused my sexsomnia but it happens more frequently when I’m stressed.
I’m grateful it didn’t occur until after my daughters, who are now in their 20s, moved out of home.
They know about my diagnosis, though I’ve never directly talked to them about it because it’s too awkward.
But I decided to start sharing my sexsomnia story with the world because I wanted to bring more awareness to the condition and make it less taboo.
It’s embarrassing to admit to the things I’ve done in my sleep, but if it makes someone else feel less alone then it’s all worth it.
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