If I added up all the time I have spent in a relationship, it would come to about 18 months. For most of my 35 years, apart from the odd fling, I have been single.
I’m a very sexual person who rarely has sex. I have a collection of racy underwear that no one sees, sex toys that I occasionally use alone, and wild fantasies that never make it out of my own head. I go days and even weeks on end without physical contact from another person. Sometimes, I think it’s not even sex I crave, but for someone to hug me and ask how my day was.
The rare times I have had sex with men that I have a real connection with reminds me how wonderful it can be – and how much I am missing out on.
Recently, I dated a man I really liked. One night, he came over and I cooked dinner. We drank some wine, talked and laughed, then went up to bed. It was glorious. Dinner, a shag and a cuddle with someone you like or love is a regular week night for most people my age, but for me it felt like a special treat. It was probably the best night I have had in a very long time, and that breaks my heart a bit. But the relationship wasn’t to be.
As a somewhat attractive woman, I don’t have any trouble finding someone who’ll have sex with me, but without at least some emotional connection, I find the experience hollow and it leaves me feeling worse than before. I remain hopeful that there has to be someone out there for me. When I find him, we are going to shag all the time – and I cannot wait.
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