The last time I experienced intimacy was on my son’s first birthday, and now he’s just turned four. As he blew out the candles on his cake, I silently celebrated my imaginary milestone: “Happy anniversary of not having sex for three years.”
At that time, I was still in a relationship with my son’s father. However, as the years rolled on, our connection deteriorated. My friends frequently suggested that I needed to “get back out there.” To them, all my troubles could be resolved with a casual fling. But I understood that sex wasn’t a remedy for the emotional struggles I faced.
As a nearly 30-year-old single mom, the thought of pursuing a sexual relationship felt overwhelming. Honestly, it wasn’t even on my radar. Between juggling motherhood and the ups and downs of life, I found it easy to close off that part of myself. Now, three years later, I find myself contemplating my feelings about sex.
Abstaining from intimacy was relatively simple during the time I cared for an infant and then a toddler. I was utterly drained, leaving little room to acknowledge what I was missing. My priorities shifted entirely; I had a child who was deeply attached to me, and leaving him for a night out wasn’t an option.
Living with my parents added another layer to this situation. In my early 20s, it was challenging enough, but as a 30-year-old with a toddler, I felt even more pressure. I didn’t want to explain my dating life to them, and honestly, I was too mature to concoct excuses. Plus, many men my age aren’t eager to engage with single moms living at home, even if it’s just for something physical.
After my split with my son’s father, I found myself in a rough mental state. I decided to immerse myself in my career instead. My work hours were unpredictable, and even if I had wanted to meet someone, I was often too exhausted to make it happen.
As my writing career started gaining momentum, I began to feel better about myself. I made a conscious effort to improve my appearance and even ventured out with friends now and then. One night at a bar, a charming guy struck up a conversation with me. While he was attractive, all I felt was a wave of nausea. Despite my improved self-esteem, I recognized that I wasn’t ready for sex or dating. My friends, with good intentions, nudged me to put myself out there, but I playfully told them to back off and stop implying there was something wrong with me for not pursuing intimacy. (By the way, honest friends are invaluable.)
My friends couldn’t grasp how I could simply shut off my sexual side. But for me, it wasn’t as difficult as it might seem. Sex had never been the cornerstone of my life. I enjoy it, but I always valued companionship more. Casual encounters aren’t for me, and right now, I’m not looking to form attachments.
In truth, I’ve come to appreciate the life I’m building for myself. I find joy in my work, my friendships, and my child. I have no desire to stress about my appearance for anyone else. I enjoy my makeup-free days, skipping leg shaves, and wearing nothing but comfy leggings and T-shirts. By 10 p.m., I’m ready for bed, not out searching for a hookup. If someone came along, I wouldn’t reject them, but I’m certainly not on the hunt.
The idea of dating again is daunting. At this point in my early 30s, I didn’t envision my life unfolding this way. The thought of being intimate with someone new is intimidating. I had been with the same partner for four years, and since then, my body has changed. After years of breastfeeding, my body is different—things have shifted, and I’m not sure I have the energy to juggle parenting, work, and the demands of a new relationship.
Not to mention the logistics of arranging childcare, which can be a headache when planning for intimacy.
It all feels overwhelming. While flirting with attractive men sounds fun in theory, I’d much rather return home to my own bed, indulge in ice cream straight from the carton, and binge-watch videos of my favorite artists. The idea of a kiss or a brief encounter sounds appealing, but actual intimacy? That’s a much bigger decision. Clearly, my hesitance indicates that I’m just not ready.
And you know what? That’s perfectly okay.
For those interested in topics like fertility and home insemination, check out this informative resource. If you’re looking for guidance on self insemination, this authority offers an excellent kit. Additionally, you might find our blog post on intracervical insemination useful for further exploration.
Summary
A single mom reflects on her years of abstinence from intimacy, exploring the challenges that come with motherhood and personal growth. As she navigates her feelings about dating and sex, she finds contentment in her current life and embraces her decision to focus on herself and her child.