When I had the opportunity to adopt my daughter a few months away from my 30se birthday, I knew that saying yes meant saying goodbye to my love life. At least at the dating life I had had it until then.
Goodbye crazy evenings.
Say goodbye to the freedom to meet any potential love interest at the last second.
Goodbye to the potential of something easy and simple.
And definitely goodbye to “u up?” Texts that never turned into anything substantial but were always good for a few hours of fun.
I started my life as single mother by choice, which meant that I wouldn’t have a parenting partner to swap nights and weekends with, and dating would, from that point on, involve a lot of planning and money spent on babysitters.
I did not care. The second my daughter was hugged, I knew I had made the right decision.
It was seven years ago. For the most part, my intuition on what would become of my love life after embracing motherhood was perfect. I have a career that I am passionate about, a wonderful group of friends that I can always count on for my support and a daughter who is the absolute love of my life.
And I can’t remember the last time I had a second date.
The truth is, I just haven’t tried that hard. My life is full and happy, and I have yet to meet someone worth complicating things with.
But that doesn’t mean my lady pieces just shriveled up and died. I am still a sexual being with all the same desires that I had before motherhood. I just don’t have the same time or the same freedom to give in to these desires.
Once a year or so, since my daughter was born, I have found a night or two here and there to be intimate with another person while my little girl spent the night at an aunt’s house or, more recently, gone to sleep in camp. . And that was enough.
Until 2020, the year of the COVID-19 pandemic.
All of a sudden, for the first time in my journey as a single mom, sex and dating isn’t just a little out of reach; they are legitimately prohibited.
I can’t just get on Tinder and pick some enticing potential for an evening of flirtation and fun. I haven’t been to a restaurant for 9 months, nor within 6 feet of another adult. And kissing through masks isn’t really a thing.
There is no room for casual encounters or even PG-13 dates when the risk is to bring home a deadly disease. There is no way I can justify my need to fuck while public health officials beg people to keep their distance.
And so, I didn’t. My Tinder profile was closed, my legs closed, and my vibrators loaded.
It’s like that. I have already put dating and sex on the back burner, and I am more than willing to do so again in the name of my protection, that of my daughter and of our community.
But I’ll tell you this: 2020 definitely made me question my status as an independent woman, perhaps wanting to settle down with someone nice before this whole pandemic started.
Someone who I could snuggle up to in my bed without fear of contracting the plague.
And of course most of my friends are fed up with their partners now. Working from home, side by side, while trying to manage their children’s virtual schooling, trapped in seemingly tiny homes with no possibility of just being alone, it makes sense that so many marriages are struggling right now. It’s a lot of pressure and solidarity.
But as I keep telling all my friends, this is yet another adult to crawl into bed with at night.
Someone to talk to.
Someone to deal with.
And yes, someone to fuck. On the occasion when we are not too exhausted for this mutual orgasm to be worth pursuing.
So if you have a partner (assuming they’re not abusive or horrible, because if they are, take 2020 as an excuse to leave), just consider climbing on them tonight.
Simply because you can.
Do it for single parents. Take advantage of your ability to fuck safely and don’t take this gift for granted.
Of course, your partner may have a terrible habit of leaving their dishes in the sink or speaking too loudly on their Zoom calls.
But he’s another adult. In your house. Hope you are up to date with all the places you love to be touched.
So let them touch you there. Because far too many of us are not affected at all this year.
At least, not affected the way we want to be.
And we don’t even know when that might happen again. So we need to know that you are not wasting the sex that is otherwise always (or almost always) available to you.
You can thank me when you’re done.
(Psssst… hey you! Yeah, you – the one that’s struggling in a thousand different ways right now, just trying to keep your head above water, unable to think of anything other than survival. If sex is there. last thing you’re thinking about right now, I really get it. I would like to think of everyone who happily fucks, just because it’s the one simple pleasure that couples can still hold onto. And because that I miss sex so much myself. But if that is just not what you want at all, honor that. And know that you deserve to have a partner who honors it too.)