right or wrong here, but there clearly was risk of disruption, drama, hurt, and regression.”
Trying to Date
Thirteen months after Robert’s death, I made it a goal to meet new men and start dating. I went to dances and singles events. I joined Meetup singles groups. I signed up with Match.com and OkCupid and scoured Craigslist personals ads.
My first attempts at meeting new people were furtive and sad. I cried on the way home from first dates. I kept alternating between attempts at meeting new men and retreating.
Then I made dating a project. I developed my successful workshop, “How the Heck Do I Date at This Age?” because we teach what we need to learn, and by now I had plenty of experiences and tips to share. I realized that dating can be fun, and even bad dates make good stories. (See Chapter 5, Dating Again.)
I had more success with online dating after deciding to date widowers only. This was valuable in helping me get out of my hard, protective shell, but I didn’t have anything in common with the men I met other than being widowed. So I relaxed that requirement, and lots of coffee dates and walking dates with new people followed. Many were interesting, but I didn’t meet anyone whom I wanted to see naked.
At the time, I worried that I was handling this getting-back-to-dating process all wrong. Now I realize it wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t know when I was ready without trying, retreating, and trying again. Not everyone does it this way—there are no wrong ways to do grief—but that was my pattern.
Sometimes Sex Happened
In early 2012, three and a half years after Robert’s death, I was finally able to have full partnered sex with a friend from another city who had been an occasional lover before I met Robert. He was sexually attentive and generous, but I was able to have an orgasm with him only by fantasizing that it was Robert. (I’ve since learned that this is quite common.) Afterward, I tried to fight the tears. I don’t remember if I was successful.
Later on, I met a man who made me giddy-excited. The distance between our cities and his consuming job made dating difficult, and we only had a few dates. The last was sexual in non-penetrative ways and very sweet. I was surprised when he faded out of reach, claiming that he was too busy and his job stretched him too far.
You’ll learn more about my sex-after-grief journey in other chapters of this book. For example,
•A spectacular, erotic massage that awakened my sexuality in a safe, nonreciprocal way. (Chapter 13, Massage or More?)
•Anticipation of sex with another former lover from many years ago, but, when we were in bed together, I couldn’t do it. (Chapter 7, It’s Okay If You’re Not Ready.)
•Three dates with a good man I enjoyed and opened up to. We had one marvelous sex date. (Chapter 9, It’s Not All or Nothing.)
•Reconnection with a former lover who became my sex buddy for more than two years. (Chapter 11, Friends with Benefits.)
And When It Works…
In 2017, OkCupid brought me a man who had just lost his wife after a long illness. He needed to learn to live with joy again, and this included sex. Our first date was instant attraction, and we discovered that we had many qualities, interests, and core beliefs in common. He was brainy, fit, attractive, and physically and intellectually active. He thought my work was fascinating.
A flurry of emails followed our first date as we tried to learn all we could about each other. In one, he asked, “Can you imagine having sex with me?”
I replied, “I’m imagining it now.”
We became sexual on our second date. Two years later, we’re still enjoying each other. We call each other “date mates,” which to us means that we’re in a strong, sweet, bonded relationship but have no desire to marry or move in together.
What I Learned from My Halting Steps
•We may not know when we’re ready for sex.
•We don’t have to have it all figured out.
•We should accept our emotional timetable,
whatever it is.
•There may not be a magic moment when we know we’re ready for sex.
•Kissing a friend can be a great start to getting back in touch with our sexual selves, even if it doesn’t lead anywhere. (I know that won’t work for everyone!)
•If we try and it doesn’t work, that’s not failure—it’s all progress.
•When it does work, it can be glorious.
Your Takeaway
What has your struggle been so far in trying to bring sex back into your life? Make your list of the steps you took, the people you got naked with, and the people you decided not to. What can you learn about what you want and need from the steps you’ve taken?
Solo Sex
You don’t need a partner to receive an orgasm. If you’ve got fingers and/or a well-chosen sex toy, you can do it for yourself.
I know, you may long for human contact, the warmth of another body, the shiver of excitement from the unpredictability of a person’s touch, the cuddling after sex. But we don’t always have control over whether we have a desirable and willing partner to give us those sensations and pleasures. The special challenges of grief are that we may not feel ready for a partner, despite desiring sex, or that we may not have an available partner if we do feel ready.
The best insurance for later-life quality of sex is to stay sexually active with our own hands and sex toys, especially when we’re unpartnered, even when we’re grieving.
A Griever Shares
“During the final three sexless years of my wife’s life while I was her full-time caregiver, had it not been for solo sex, I’d have gone stark raving bonkers and would’ve been wrapped up in a straitjacket and stuck in an institution. Masturbation kept me going.”
Orgasm Benefits
Did you know that sexual activity and orgasm—no partner required—help elevate your emotional and physical health? When we grieve, our stress is up, our mood is down, our sleep is disturbed, we’re depressed, and our overall health is compromised. All of these problems and more are improved with regular orgasms, which we can give ourselves. We’ll feel better mentally and physically, and our bodies will be more resistant to illness. We’ll even sleep better!
A Confession
It surprises me now that I didn’t start self-pleasuring until six months after partner sex stopped. I just didn’t feel the urge. I was so deeply in grief that I didn’t feel capable of pleasure, and masturbation didn’t seem worth the effort.
How odd for me as a sex educator to lose my sexual self that way. I knew the benefits and the importance of keeping myself sexually healthy without a partner, especially as an older person whose genitals and sexual responsiveness do not take
