Among the community of the young widowed, a phrase has evolved encapsulating the act of being intimate again with a new partner after being bereaved of their soulmate. Losing one’s widginity. For many there is huge emotional turmoil associated with taking this step. They had been in their previous relationships for many years, had not dreamt that whilst still relatively young, they would be thrust back into a world of dating, getting to know someone new with all their quirks, the vulnerability of exposing one’s own little quirks (heaven forbid!) or else face the bleak prospect of many more decades alone. And not just that, but at an age where, potentially stretch marks, flabby bits and maybe a couple of children also come into the equation. Not to mention the emotional baggage that comes with such a massive bereavement. Loving a widow or widower is not an easy option, especially as they are still in love with the partner they have lost.

It is seven and a half years now since my husband died, and more like nine years since we were last intimate due to his very poor health. And whilst I’ve watched widowed friends develop new relationships, I have felt like the fat ugly bird on the shelf that no one noticed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted for those who have found love again, but I’d not had a single date, let alone anything more, despite doing my best to ‘get back out there’ and having a punt with a couple of different dating websites. Life circumstances and my bipolar disorder certainly haven’t helped either. If loving a widow is challenging, try a crazy bipolar widow with massive trust issues and a background of abuse. I admit on paper, I don’t read well. The pink hair in my profile picture seems to be the nail in the coffin. It hasn’t been a huge deal, although the desire to be with someone for a cuddle, for company, for warmth (putting aside sex for the moment) has at times caused me to feel pretty lonely.

I met Matt (name changed for privacy reasons) about a year and a half ago on a course at our local community mental health team. He was totally genuine, a cheeky chappy with a big heart. What you saw was what you got. We got along as part of the group, and I admit I didn’t think much more about it. When we finished the group, a number of us migrated to the pub nearby for a drink, and in conversation it came up about one week how I’d got upset in the group. Matt chipped in, “I just felt like giving you a big hug and a kiss.” I was on a wave of hypomania at the time, and with unusual quick thinking I replied, “You still can if you want!” So in a rather unexpected sweeping movement, he stood up, grabbing me by the elbow and pulling me up with him, threw his arms around me and snogged me full on the lips! I was somewhat surprised, but found the experience rather pleasing. For the rest of the evening in the pub, still as part of the larger group, we hopelessly flirted with each until we all set off our separate ways home.

In a bit of a head spin I sent him a text a day or two later. I told him I had rather enjoyed his company, and did he fancy getting together? Then I waited. And waited. I sent another message apologising if I had made an arse of myself and misread the signs. Eventually he replied, saying how flattered he was, and how brave he thought I was for asking, but he just didn’t feel the same. It was the sweetest refusal I’d ever seen, but I just felt a bit bewildered.

A few weeks later at a subsequent meet up at the pub (these were becoming habit now) a friend and I were playfully shaming Matt for coming on to me previously. This time it was his turn to look bewildered. He claims, and knowing him somewhat better now, I tend to believe him, that he was so drunk he has no memory of events of the evening. I said I was honoured to have been so memorable. Not!

We’ve met up as a group every couple of weeks for the last year now, and it had become habit for me target poor Matt every time I’ve been hypomanic. In the end he kindly but firmly told me he was not in the right place to be in a relationship, something I can utterly relate to, currently being in abuse therapy. He even at one point said he could never sleep with me because, ‘I was too lovely’. I know he’s been through some really painful relationship experiences, as well as periods of very poor mental health, so I backed off.

Funnily enough, when I backed off, he was the one who would seek out a cuddle or a kiss from me. I think essentially we’d become really good friends, we trusted each other, and felt safe together.

Yesterday five of us met at the pub at lunchtime, but by just after 3 o’clock everyone else had left. I expected Matt to make his excuses to be honest, because I’m riding another wave of hypomania, and had been playfully flirting with him. But we sat and chatted, getting physically closer to each other as the evening drew on, we had some food, drank more, enjoyed each other’s company, had numerous rounds of sambuca shots and the flirting became mutual and intensified. I asked him if he was sure he didn’t want to come to play at my house, and he completely blew my mind and replied, “Maybe…” 

He told me again he wasn’t looking for a relationship. I told him I wasn’t either. I asked if it would ruin our friendship. He thinks not. I’m hesitant. But we went back to mine like a couple of hormonal teenagers! And I trusted him with my damned widginity that had hung like an albatross around my neck for the last seven and a half years, seemingly becoming more of a burden as time went on. And it was ok. In fact it was better than ok, and Matt was amazing, just holding me tight as my emotions took over, reassuring me that if I changed my mind at any point he would just hug me all night long.

The plan is we will have a friends with benefits arrangement. The meeting of physical needs within the framework of friendship. I have no idea right now if I can cope with that, if it will work and how it will affect our relationships within our larger friendship group. My emotions seem to have shut down in the cold light of day, so I have no idea at all how I feel about the events of last night. But I can’t deny it felt wonderful to be desired and to pop that wretched widginity cherry 🍒