In all that I've read about grief after losing a spouse - from books about grief to online discussions in grief support groups - there's one topic that rarely comes up.
WHY aren't we talking about SEX?
Yeah, yeah, put away your shocked faces; sex isn't just for young, beautiful people, mmmkay? In the big picture, of course, sex isn't at the top of the list when I think about what I miss most about Doug: his sense of humor, his kindness, his voice, his affection... those are at the top. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss sex with him. A lot. We were together for four years and change, and we loved each other a lot; in many ways, we still felt like we were newly in love, and that was a good thing. It was a fantastic thing, actually.
For some reason, though, nobody seems to talk about how painful it is to lose the physical intimacy when one's partner dies. And it IS painful.
I'm not talking about the more pragmatic and purely physiological aspects of being celibate; anybody who's gone through puberty knows how to manage that. And I'm well aware that, if I REALLY want to get laid, I could probably find a way make that happen (yes - even at my age, even though I'm more Venus of Willendorf than Venus de Milo, and even though there's a pandemic going on).
But that isn't the same as getting naked - physically and emotionally - with the one you love. Widows and widowers are added not only to this awful club of those who've lost their life partners, but also the club of the unwilling celibates. Yes, we too are incels (but dude, not THOSE incels). And that's a scary, scary prospect: am I really going to have to live another 20 or 30 years without ever experiencing that again? It's a sobering thought, and one I find kinda horrifying, TBH.
Equally horrifying, however, is the thought of not being celibate for the rest of my days. First, there's the guilt that I know would show up if I ever got involved with anyone else. Then, there's the terror at the thought of dating, and jumping all the hoops of telling our stories and getting to know each other and what if he turns out to be like Thing One or Thing Two and what if Doug was my only lucky break and I'll go right back to choosing emotionally unavailable men? Or what if I meet someone and fall deeply in love and he falls in love with me? How could I ever risk loving someone again without being terrified all the time that he'll die too? Hell, my son is dealing with some viral crud right now (no, not COVID-19), and I'm a wreck over that.
Is it any wonder I feel trapped? I can't go back to the past, where Doug was alive, because immutable laws of physics prohibit that. Going into some dark, terrifying future where I'm either alone forever or possibly have to go through this again? That's not a life I want, either. Why should I want to live, when neither of the only two options for living the rest of my life (either alone for life, or risk loving and losing yet again) is acceptable?
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