Let’s talk about sex, baby!
Dating during COVID Lockdown No.1 was hard enough. A steady stream of FaceTimes, walks in the park and a ‘Tinder swipe surge in your area.’
Having already cracked the banana bread, Blinding Lights TikTok and Instagram workouts early, I had been determined to meet a match that was for keeps.
However, as people started opening up their doors and stepping away from the screens, the old faithful questions like ‘Drinks or Dinner,’ ‘Top or Bottom,’ and ‘Your place or mine?” were now minuscule in comparison to ‘Have you got C?’
And, with COVID having become an unfortunate everyday factor and ‘sexy time’ (where safe) being back on the menu, I had to question, should we quarantine after sex?
Virtual dinner dates and FaceTime cocktails
As if we didn’t have enough minefields to decipher, we now had to play roulette with a new virus.
Mid-pandemic, I had already discovered that this wasn’t the time to ease up on potential matches. It was time to seize the gay.
Continuing to swipe and match, I entertained virtual dinner dates, a random ‘name that body part’ quiz and cocktail making sessions through FaceTime.
I had even been enlisted to take part in a new virtual version of Blind Date with an amazing new drag act, Cun Tucky. Cilla would have been proud!
Then I had moved on to physical dates that included walks in the park, picnics and frisbee games – rest assured all components were sanitised.
After that, as places started opening up, it was beers outside and pizzas in the sun.
At first, it felt like the romantic times of old school dating had swooped back into my life.
Restrictions were in place and following the rules felt a little bit ‘sexy,’ with a pleasant build-up of tension brewing.
Of course, I had been asked to ‘break the rules…’ (insert aubergine emoji here) and I’d lost count of how many propositions of ‘mask for masks’ I’d received.
Break my bubble
It was also alarming the number of men who claimed that they ‘knew’ that they’d already had COVID, despite never being tested and maintained they were a ‘safe bet.’
Horny men of London had become doctors, pleading immunity and fidelity to me, screaming:
Break my bubble!
But even if I were to believe these people that I’d never met, my iron clad pants were on and I continued to date the old-fashioned way. From a distance!
Unfortunately, however, like many people on public transport, the mask was slipping.
Romance looked more likely to be overridden by the horn.
Ever since the government originally announced that sex was ‘back on the table,’ and we were allowed to find ‘a’ person, men had moved from Hinge to Grindr.
One ‘special’ person then changed to two, and, well you can do the math.
Turning a blind eye to Covid
Thirsty men and women everywhere started turning a blind eye to COVID.
And, what I’ve come to realise, is that much like religion, politics and Drag Race, when it comes to COVID, if you don’t agree, then it’s probably not a match.
Don’t get me wrong, I know that the heatwave that swept over London didn’t help the horn.
Damn those frisky rays and a topless Zac Efron on Netflix.
But, similar to the doomed holidays of 2020, I couldn’t help but wonder if soon enough we’ll need to quarantine after sex?
Perhaps we’ll have to track and trace our sexual encounters, doing our part to stop the spread.
With the second spike arriving, and a continuous spike in my pants not letting up, I pine for a time that I can feel 100% comfortable again to sleep with someone after a date, should the mood take us there.
I’d love to ‘go with the flow’ and not worry. But the truth is, the worry is there, whether we choose to ignore it or not.
Covid is here to stay.
Make smarter choices
So, with rules from the government around sex still unclear, for now, it comes down to us, the individual, to make smarter choices.
Because I’m sure the rule of six doesn’t mean a six-man orgy!
Maybe it’s time to moderate encounters and put it back in our pants.
No one wants to have to quarantine after an orgasm.
For me, sex isn’t off the menu, but I do seem to be taking my time to order. And that’s ok.
Even if Cheyenne Jackson or Wentworth Miller begged me to come over for a kiss and a cuddle, no strings attached, they’d have to at least court me first and maybe do a mouth swab.
I’m off on what feels like my 15th date. Perhaps I’ll burst the bubble, but how do I know they haven’t already popped theirs?
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