How do you restart your sex life when you haven’t been touched for a year?
After a year of restrictions, many of us are battling with a lack of confidence when it comes to our love lives. By Morgan Lawrence
Last Friday night, my friend Amy* and I were at a pub-garden table eating fish and chips. We hadn’t seen each other for over six months because of Covid-19 restrictions, and for some reason I’d waited this long to ask how she felt about going back into dating. “So,” I asked. “Looking forward to meeting someone?”
She shuffled uncomfortably. “I should be but I’m not,” she said. “I feel like I’m confident about dating but the thought of sleeping with someone again makes me panic. It’s like I’ve forgotten what to do in bed.” Amy, who is 27-yearsold, broke off her three-year relationship in December 2019, mere months before the Government’s initial stay-athome order was announced in late March. After allowing a few weeks to “grieve” the end of her relationship, she turned to online dating.
“At first I was all for the dating apps,” said Amy, who lives in Bristol with two housemates. “But I got used to being behind a screen. Now restrictions have eased up, I’m terrified of meeting up with someone in real life.”
The result of a year spent obeying government guidelines is that Amy hasn’t had sex with anyone for a year. “I’ve had phone sex a few times,” she admits. “But there’s only so many times you can do that before losing interest. It’s just not the same.”
Despite the indications that many singles broke the rules for secret sex (as told in this paper by writer Emily Hill), Amy stuck to the rules to the letter. “For me, breaking the rules to have sex wasn’t worth it. My housemates are paranoid about the virus; it wouldn’t have been fair to bring someone back.”
The same fears about a return to sex are echoed by the thousands of other singles who, after adhering to social distancing guidelines, have endured a near 12-month celibacy that has nothing to do with religion and everything to do with the new normal.
This “sexual recession”, as it’s being called by some experts, is identified in a Match.com survey from August 2020 which found that 71 per cent of its members hadn’t had sex in the six months prior.
But this is no surprise when you consider that last June, sex between people who don’t share the same support bubble or household became illegal. Last September, the Government added an exemption to the “no sex” rule for couples in established relationships (whatever that means) though ministers would not clarify the rules beyond that.
There is evidence to suggest that not everyone was on board with the new guidance. According to a University College London study, less than 50 per cent of people under 30 were “completely” complying with all of the lockdown rules at the time of surveyance, while a study of 2,000 people from IllicitEncounters.com (a website for people wanting extra-marital affairs) found that one in five of those asked have broken lockdown to have sex. For those people who felt unable to follow the guidance, some organisations including the Terrence Higgins Trust have recommended not kissing, wearing a face mask during sex and favouring positions that were not face-to-face.
With restrictions beginning to relax, former dating hotspots, including restaurants and bars, are now open al fresco and small outdoor events (perfect for meeting someone) are taking place. But with indoor socialising still banned in England, those following the rules will be experiencing the sex drought for a week longer. And in the meantime, it seems that anxiety is at an all-time high. A recent poll by dating site Eharmony revealed a quarter of single 18-34-year-olds were feeling fearful about dating again. A survey by dating app Badoo found similar: out of 1,095 respondents, 77 per cent said they were feeling anxious about the first face-toface meeting, while 78 per cent admitted lockdown has caused them to “forget how to date in person”. No wonder dating experts have coined a new post-pandemic acronym: FODA (Fear of Dating Again).
Dr Elena Touroni, consultant psychologist and co-founder of The Chelsea Psychology Clinic, says that while this kind of anxiety is natural, some people will cope better than others. She says: “The impact is likely to be more significant for those who are used to having intimacy in their life. Intimacy has a lot of positive psychological benefits. It gives us a sense of connection, of being loved and it can also boost our self-esteem. The absence of it can have a significant impact on our overall wellbeing.”
This impact is well documented. Many scientists throughout the pandemic have warned that scarce skin-toskin contact can lead to affection deprivation, or “skin hunger”, a neurological issue that can cause feelings of depression and anxiety. Human beings are inherently tactile: both sensual and platonic human touch triggers a release of oxytocin, the “love hormone”. Studies also reveal that touch can stimulate the release of serotonin (a neurotransmitter that affects mood) and reduces stress hormone cortisol.
The absence of close contact with loved ones and potential partners over lockdown has led to many people putting sex to the back of their minds. But aside from the obvious psychological effects of isolation – including stress and depression – some are reporting a loss of libido. A survey conducted by the Kinsey Institute at Indiana University found that nearly half of respondents reported a decline in the frequency of sexual behaviour during lockdown (and that included masturbation).
For 49-year-old Piers Burnell, from Henley-on-Thames, the pandemic has brought a series of life changes that have impacted his confidence while dating. His job doing corporate sales for a chiropractor was temporarily halted once restrictions were set in. Although he found work teaching drama on Zoom a few days per week, and writes a blog called Sober and Standing, the loss of his job made an impact. “It felt like going back to square one,” he says. “My social life completely dried up, too.”
Burnell has been single for four years and was last intimate with someone over 20 months ago. “The pandemic has made me, and everyone else, introspective; I have reassessed my life in some ways. It was a catalyst to think about my confidence. People often define you by what you do and when you’re technically unemployed that can get you down. I felt redundant.”
Burnell felt that this period “regressed” him. “I often think about how to date and communicate with someone in person again. Also, I’ve put on a bit of lockdown weight so I don’t physically feel my best. I have years of experience but I’m so nervous at the thought of being with someone again.”
Confidence is also an issue for 28-year-old Hannah* from Manchester. At the beginning of June last year, she was made redundant and, subsequently, moved back into the family home. “I felt like I wasn’t worthy of dating,” she says. “And being intimate is the most vulnerable state you can be in with someone. Losing my job affected my confidence in more ways than I expected. I comfort ate. Now I don’t feel anyone would want to see me naked.”
Hannah has found Zoom dating difficult, too. “It’s easy to talk to people online. You can endlessly scroll until you meet a half-decent looking guy. But meeting up with them is entirely different. What if I don’t match up to my prelockdown picture? I worry they’ll want sex sooner than I’m ready,” she continues. “I’d hoped to settle down by now but I feel like I’ve lost a dating year.”
Even for those with a live-in partner, lockdown isn’t necessarily an easy time to be intimate. Take Peter*, a 60-yearold emergency worker from Hull, who has been married for over 25 years. Due to his line of work and work-related PTSD, he formed an intense phobia of infecting his wife with the virus. He moved to the sofa in March last year and has not had sexual contact (even a kiss) with her since.“I tend to have catastrophic thinking,” he says. “My move to the sofa was a protective measure as I came into contact with Covid-positive people on a job in March. We’ve both found it difficult: my wife said to me recently that she misses me in bed.”
After so long without sex or even touch, Peter worries about how to start building intimacy again. “We’ve always been really tactile. But my fear stops me from doing anything. It’s always at the back of my mind. Is it going to be awkward? Is it going to feel right? Having said that, there is the old ‘riding the bike’ ideology,” he laughs. “The urge is still there but we’re holding out until the end of the pandemic.”
Lack of intimacy can cause skin hunger, a neurological issue linked to depression