The State of My Sexual and Romantic Life
Wherein I examine the state of my relationships.
(If you haven’t read Part 1, it can be found here.)
2019 was the first year in recent memory in which I didn’t have sex with another person for the first time. And I understand that much of that was due to logistics, money, and a desire to focus on my marriage (and to a lesser extent my existing relationships) over anything new. It wasn’t a lack of opportunity; overtures were made by at least one Twitter friend to take things offline. And 2020 was the first year in more than a decade in which I didn’t have sex with someone who was not my wife. Obviously the pandemic was to blame, but by the end of the year I was left with the thought that I might as well be monogamous.
In the weeks leading to the enactment of the shelter-in-place order I had been trying to cultivate an ongoing friends-with-benefits thing with someone who was certainly interested in me as much as I was interested in her. She identified as polyamorous but wasn’t looking for anything serious. Plus she was local, which is uncommon for me. We flirted via text and even saw each other socially. I looked forward to seeing where it went, as it had been a long time since I’d had a local partner. I have no reason to believe she wasn’t thinking along the same lines. But then the quarantine began and she stopped returning my messages. There was no “Sucks we can’t hang out but hopefully soon”. No “Thinking of you as I charge my vibrator”. No “Wish we’d gotten to fuck before lockdown started”. Hey, that’s cool. Maybe she isn’t into mind-blowing G-spot orgasms and the kind of oral sex that leaves you lying in a puddle.
As our county went into lockdown in mid-March, our friend M told me that she had invited a onetime friend-with-benefits who lived in a different state to fly down and quarantine with her at her apartment. At the time we were told the lockdown portion of the pandemic would be only a couple weeks, and while I thought it risky I said nothing beyond reminding her she’d have to stay away from her elderly mother. She was excited by the prospect of rekindling this old romance; she was working from home, and the guy was doing the same. There was no reason why he couldn’t do so from her place.
The arrangement seemed fine for about a week. Though she reported no sex, they had fun cooking together, watching TV, and essentially being roommates. When sex finally did occur, she initiated it; he was not as proactive or enthusiastic as she had expected. Though I didn’t say so, it was clear to me that he was disinterested, but M was still optimistic. She had feelings. Every day she would message me to tell me of some new positive development, but reading between the lines I could see that things weren’t great. Simply put, her pandemic roomie wasn’t into her. Maybe he just wanted her company during lockdown. Maybe he found himself less physically attracted once he arrived than he thought he’d be. Either way, the writing was on the wall but she couldn’t see it. Or maybe she could see it – because it was obvious from where I was standing – and just didn’t want to acknowledge reality.
After about two and a half weeks, he had to go back home and take care of some things. Which makes sense; the shelter-in-place order had extended beyond the initial two-week estimate. The plan was for him to go home, tend to whatever needed tending to for a week or so, maybe pack some things he hadn’t packed the first time around, and fly back to spend the rest of the lockdown with her. Or at least, that’s what he told her. But given his disinterest, I figured he wasn’t coming back. And I believe, at least on a subconscious level, M had the same thought. She waited, hoping for the best. But as communication between her and him broke down she acknowledged she was losing hope. She realized she had been played before she saw him hanging out with another woman on social media, but that’s when she finally voiced it. And I acknowledged that I was glad I was not her.
As the months wore on I began to feel not unlike M. My non-local longtime partner grew distant; her entire family was now home all day every day, and as alone time evaded her she became sexually unresponsive. At the same time, without the possibility of an in-person meeting she was seemingly less emotionally invested in me. There was no intimacy of any kind. There was no sense that she was still interested, nor was there reassurance that she would want to see me when the pandemic was over. There was no validation that our relationship was still a thing.
We continued to talk. It seemed like we were still close friends. But we were not where we had been the last few years, and it seemed like we never would be. It still does seem that way, actually. And that’s okay; no one is entitled to a relationship with another person. But it’s hard when an ongoing situation to which one has grown accustomed changes dramatically without any acknowledgment of the change.
She wasn’t the only one, of course. As I said in my previous post, the connections I used to be able to count on, the relationships I’d nurtured and enjoyed, have changed or ended outright, some even before the pandemic began. Feelings change. Needs change. Circumstances change. In some cases the romantic and flirty aspects drop off while remaining friendly. But I’ve found that when someone tires of the sexual component of your friendship, they don’t tell you “I don’t want to be sexual anymore.” They just stop doing it and hope you don’t bring it up.
And that’s fine. I am not owed an explanation from anybody. Still, I like – and arguably deserve – to know where I stand. If I know sex talk with someone who used to enjoy it is now off the table, I want to make sure I don’t ignorantly attempt to steer a conversation in that direction, especially if doing so might inadvertently cause the other person anxiety or otherwise put a strain on the friendship if one exists.
That being said, I understand why it’s such a difficult conversation for a woman to have with a man she knows well, much less a relative stranger on the internet. Obviously I know I’m not entitled to sex, but the average woman doesn’t know I know it. And given that a large portion of men would be inclined to viciously lash out in response to such a conversation, it is not unreasonable that the average woman would rather avoid it
Post-script: In January, my non-local longtime partner floated the idea of us spending time together once we were both vaccinated. No concrete plans were made, but I felt excited to know it was something she was still thinking about. There was no further mention of such a reunion until earlier this month, when she told me she was not interested – whether permanently or temporarily she could not say – in meeting for sex. I wasn’t particularly surprised, though I was surprised she actually told me. And I was surprised to find that in the wake of this conversation we are closer than we’ve been in more than a year. I’d rather have renewed friendship and no sex than emotional distance and no sex.
To be continued.
