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When prime minister Boris Johnson announced a second national lockdown last Saturday, there was only one thing on my mind: sex.
Having not had sex in three months, the longest I’ve gone in a decade, the prospect of 30+ days without touching another human being filled me with frustration. People often like to say that it’s easy for a woman to get sex, so I embarked on a mission to find out if it’s possible to get laid within the space of five days during a pandemic.
Let me preface this by saying two things. Firstly, 2020 has been a hard year for single people, who have been largely forgotten during the pandemic and banned from enjoying the physical pleasure of another person’s company, something I do not agree with. Secondly, I am not really a fan of casual sex (I’ve had a lot of it in the past and it no longer appeals) and so have spent the past seven months dating, in the hopes of finding love. In fact, I only recently ended a budding romance with a man I had been seeing for six weeks and still care for (we are hoping to pick things back up in a few months).
But I have needs, and so, back to my experiment. Sitting at a socially-distanced gig with a friend, I jumped onto Bumble and started swiping. Within minutes, I had 10 matches, to whom I sent the exact same message.
“So if I said, let’s meet before national lockdown 2.0 for a bit of fun… what would you say? Usually I wouldn’t but it’s been a long 2020.”
“Clearly I was not the only one horny and eager to get in there quickly, before England shut down.”
Moments later, the enthusiastic messages started rolling in. Clearly I was not the only one horny and eager to get in there quickly, before England shut down.
Surprisingly, none of the replies were seedy and the men were delightfully honest, suggesting a day (or night) for us to meet up. I proceeded to scroll through the profiles with my friend before settling on a man we’ll call Josh.
My foray into this unusual type of speed dating had, at first, been a bit of a joke – I hadn’t actually thought that I’d find a man I’d want to sleep with – but Josh was friendly, cheeky and very attractive. A few hours (and drinks) later, I invited him over to my place.
Word of warning: if you’re going to try something like this, always be safe. I had shared this man’s profile with my friend and given her his details, confirmed his photos were real, spoken to him on the phone before he arrived and also have very good neighbours who will help at a moment’s notice, if needed.
As for the sex, it was disappointingly mediocre, with Josh more interested in his orgasm than mine. As a sexually experienced woman in her early 30s, I have no qualms about telling a man what I want in bed and I demanded that he pay me the same attention I did him. I got my climax in the end but, frankly, I did most of the work.
The cuddles, however, were glorious. It’s what I have miss most about sex; someone snuggling into my neck, kissing my back as we wake up in the early hours for round two and take turns being the little spoon.
Sex isn’t just sex, and it’s precisely this that I think the government had forgotten when it imposed the restriction that only those in so-called ‘established relationships’ are allowed physical intimacy. Kissing, hugging, someone holding your hand – these are just as important as penetration and orgasms.
“This will likely be my last sex of 2020 – unless Santa Claus decides to send a hunky man down the chimney and guarantees he is coronavirus-free”
Josh left the next day with the promise that he’d call me before Thursday for another night of fun. He didn’t, and I wasn’t particularly bothered – nor did I call him myself.
Aside from this night of mild passion, 2020 has been dry. There was the mind-blowing experience I had on my birthday back in July with a former lover and, back in March, a virtual relationship that lasted for nearly two months. We had phone and video sex regularly and I very nearly fell in love, but the lack of a physical connection meant that our relationship, however meaningful, soon fizzled out. My point? Sex is important, on many levels.
The experiment was a success and I have no regrets. Would I do it again though? Probably not. I didn’t feel fully satisfied – not just because the sex was a letdown but I just need more these days. Note that I say this with no judgement to those who like to get freaky with strangers, I used to be a big fan of it myself.
But for me, this will likely be the last sex of 2020 – unless Santa Claus decides to send a hunky man down the chimney and guarantees he is coronavirus-free. Until then, fellow single people, it’s just me, my vibrator and I.
Alison is a freelance journalist, writing under a pseudonym
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