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| Version 3 | Version 4 |
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| Is Sex Dead for Parents? | Is Sex Dead for Parents? |
| (1 day later) | |
| While in domestic confinement, the most comforting thing I can say to my female friends, near and far, is not “This too shall pass.” Nor is it “We can do hard things.” It is my own pearl of wisdom, and it goes something like this: “Don’t worry, no one actually wants to have sex with their husband.” | While in domestic confinement, the most comforting thing I can say to my female friends, near and far, is not “This too shall pass.” Nor is it “We can do hard things.” It is my own pearl of wisdom, and it goes something like this: “Don’t worry, no one actually wants to have sex with their husband.” |
| I am kidding, kind of. I mean, I really do say that to everyone, but I don’t know if it’s true. In fact, back in those darker days of early lockdown, I texted a wider net of mom friends — all hanging on by a thread, all sustained only by “Dead to Me” Season 2 and Dr. Praeger’s potato puffs — and asked, “None of you guys are actually having Covid sex, right?” | I am kidding, kind of. I mean, I really do say that to everyone, but I don’t know if it’s true. In fact, back in those darker days of early lockdown, I texted a wider net of mom friends — all hanging on by a thread, all sustained only by “Dead to Me” Season 2 and Dr. Praeger’s potato puffs — and asked, “None of you guys are actually having Covid sex, right?” |
| The answers ranged from, “God no, never,” to “Just the minimum amount to keep my marriage healthy,” to “I tell him, ‘It’s like Fresh Direct, open for business, but owing to high demand there are less windows than usual.’” So, OK. I can basically confirm that for parents on virus watch, sex isn’t exactly lust on drugs. | The answers ranged from, “God no, never,” to “Just the minimum amount to keep my marriage healthy,” to “I tell him, ‘It’s like Fresh Direct, open for business, but owing to high demand there are less windows than usual.’” So, OK. I can basically confirm that for parents on virus watch, sex isn’t exactly lust on drugs. |
| I don’t want to have sex with my husband either, but that’s because I don’t have a husband. | I don’t want to have sex with my husband either, but that’s because I don’t have a husband. |
| I have a partner, or boyfriend, or baby daddy. We never know what to call each other. We’ve been together several years and have two children, ages 4 and 8 months, and are very happy, but not married. So it tracks with our unconventional, nonmarital bliss that normally we keep it sexy. Normally we are, wink, good. If this were the ’70s, I’d probably, even without cringing, call him my lover. Which brings me back to the point. | I have a partner, or boyfriend, or baby daddy. We never know what to call each other. We’ve been together several years and have two children, ages 4 and 8 months, and are very happy, but not married. So it tracks with our unconventional, nonmarital bliss that normally we keep it sexy. Normally we are, wink, good. If this were the ’70s, I’d probably, even without cringing, call him my lover. Which brings me back to the point. |
| Having a lover is an essential I cannot afford right now. | Having a lover is an essential I cannot afford right now. |
| I love my partner without reservation, and I am extremely attracted to him. I am not even a little bit mad at him. And yet, there isn’t a Paycheck Protection Program loan big enough to replenish my libido at the moment. | I love my partner without reservation, and I am extremely attracted to him. I am not even a little bit mad at him. And yet, there isn’t a Paycheck Protection Program loan big enough to replenish my libido at the moment. |
| Some days are better than others, and many families have it unequivocally worse than us, but parenting in Brooklyn has been very stressful. My kids have been stuck on me like Play-Doh on a shag rug all day in our small apartment — I am touched-out to the max. I am struggling to work, clean, fight insurance bills, work, apply for loans, work, cook, call my accountant, clean and work. Every trip to Trader Joe’s or CVS feels slightly risky. Every five minutes of fresh air with my family feels luxurious but somehow wrong. | Some days are better than others, and many families have it unequivocally worse than us, but parenting in Brooklyn has been very stressful. My kids have been stuck on me like Play-Doh on a shag rug all day in our small apartment — I am touched-out to the max. I am struggling to work, clean, fight insurance bills, work, apply for loans, work, cook, call my accountant, clean and work. Every trip to Trader Joe’s or CVS feels slightly risky. Every five minutes of fresh air with my family feels luxurious but somehow wrong. |
| I share the above stresses with my partner, but at the end of the night, he’s less depleted. I attribute this to him growing up on a farm where you do hard, laborious things all day long. Or maybe it’s just because he’s a dude and never too tired for … connectivity. | I share the above stresses with my partner, but at the end of the night, he’s less depleted. I attribute this to him growing up on a farm where you do hard, laborious things all day long. Or maybe it’s just because he’s a dude and never too tired for … connectivity. |
| Me? I’m over connectivity. For the last few months, I’ve been into extreme personal refuge. This means the minute the kids are in bed, do not come near me. Do not look at me. And for the love of takeout margaritas, please do not touch me. | Me? I’m over connectivity. For the last few months, I’ve been into extreme personal refuge. This means the minute the kids are in bed, do not come near me. Do not look at me. And for the love of takeout margaritas, please do not touch me. |
| I have an evening ritual that has become so regimented, and so sacred, that nothing can get in its way. The second — and I mean precise second — my kids are asleep, I walk straight to our bathroom. I strip off my clothes. I sink into burning hot water. I don’t add bubbles or bath salts — too invasive. I close my eyes and soak in silence, making the water hotter and hotter and hotter. Eventually, I towel off. Then, still naked, I walk in the dark to my bed and lie down — stretching my body out, melting into my heavenly, sateen sheets — for minutes, or hours, or until I fall asleep, which is usually very early, and always alone. It is deeply primal. | I have an evening ritual that has become so regimented, and so sacred, that nothing can get in its way. The second — and I mean precise second — my kids are asleep, I walk straight to our bathroom. I strip off my clothes. I sink into burning hot water. I don’t add bubbles or bath salts — too invasive. I close my eyes and soak in silence, making the water hotter and hotter and hotter. Eventually, I towel off. Then, still naked, I walk in the dark to my bed and lie down — stretching my body out, melting into my heavenly, sateen sheets — for minutes, or hours, or until I fall asleep, which is usually very early, and always alone. It is deeply primal. |
| My partner — who would probably rather decompress together but isn’t the needy type — respects the boundary. It helps that I explained it to him in a very straightforward way: This was how I had to spend my nights for a while. “It’s not a permanent thing — and it’s not about us — but for now, at night, I need to be left alone. All night.” Then I smiled and said, “You can still sleep in the bed.” He nodded sweetly, and that was it. It wasn’t small talk and it wasn’t big talk, it was just the truth. | My partner — who would probably rather decompress together but isn’t the needy type — respects the boundary. It helps that I explained it to him in a very straightforward way: This was how I had to spend my nights for a while. “It’s not a permanent thing — and it’s not about us — but for now, at night, I need to be left alone. All night.” Then I smiled and said, “You can still sleep in the bed.” He nodded sweetly, and that was it. It wasn’t small talk and it wasn’t big talk, it was just the truth. |
| There is so much pressure to have a passionate relationship. And I’m not pretending wild-heartedness is not gorgeous and great — wild-heartedness has been the driving force of my entire life (for better or worse). I’m just saying it’s OK, it’s no big deal, to deprioritize passion if that’s what you need to do for a while. | There is so much pressure to have a passionate relationship. And I’m not pretending wild-heartedness is not gorgeous and great — wild-heartedness has been the driving force of my entire life (for better or worse). I’m just saying it’s OK, it’s no big deal, to deprioritize passion if that’s what you need to do for a while. |
| Look, just before I got weird with the whole R.I.P. sex thing, we watched “Normal People” on Hulu. Let me tell you, that series could make dirt flirty. Will that level of desire ever come back again? Of course it will. Soon enough, I’m sure sex will go down like free Champagne. Nights and nights of free Champagne. That’s why I can talk about it so openly, and why I think it’s important to remind everyone not to worry. If you’re too tired to have sex because your world erupted and it’s still taking a toll on your entire being, don’t panic. You are fine. Your sex life will survive. Buy yourself some sateen sheets. | Look, just before I got weird with the whole R.I.P. sex thing, we watched “Normal People” on Hulu. Let me tell you, that series could make dirt flirty. Will that level of desire ever come back again? Of course it will. Soon enough, I’m sure sex will go down like free Champagne. Nights and nights of free Champagne. That’s why I can talk about it so openly, and why I think it’s important to remind everyone not to worry. If you’re too tired to have sex because your world erupted and it’s still taking a toll on your entire being, don’t panic. You are fine. Your sex life will survive. Buy yourself some sateen sheets. |
| While conducting this ridiculous sex poll with friends, someone challenged my “sex negative” theory by bringing up the once-rumored baby boom (it’s since been debunked but I didn’t know that at the time). I didn’t have the answer. I thought: Who are these people having sex like rabbits? They, for sure, don’t already have kids. Are they the same people accidentally losing a lot of weight? I’m sure they are lovely but those are not my people. | While conducting this ridiculous sex poll with friends, someone challenged my “sex negative” theory by bringing up the once-rumored baby boom (it’s since been debunked but I didn’t know that at the time). I didn’t have the answer. I thought: Who are these people having sex like rabbits? They, for sure, don’t already have kids. Are they the same people accidentally losing a lot of weight? I’m sure they are lovely but those are not my people. |
| Updated July 16, 2020 | |
| My people are simultaneously trying to keep their jobs alive, and their kids alive, and their parents alive, while privately being very scared, and quite sad. My people are desperately dodging the droplets of sweaty joggers, while trying to remind their young children what color the sunset is. My people are the bone-tired single moms, which is how I started out. My people are not discovering ceramics and erotica; they are discovering how to pee, text and floss at the same time. I am astounded by the grace and strength of my people, who truck on with their masks on, fighting the descent into despair. | My people are simultaneously trying to keep their jobs alive, and their kids alive, and their parents alive, while privately being very scared, and quite sad. My people are desperately dodging the droplets of sweaty joggers, while trying to remind their young children what color the sunset is. My people are the bone-tired single moms, which is how I started out. My people are not discovering ceramics and erotica; they are discovering how to pee, text and floss at the same time. I am astounded by the grace and strength of my people, who truck on with their masks on, fighting the descent into despair. |
| “Right now, when the world feels on fire, pulling away from a partner may be self-care,” said Lexx Brown-James, better known as Dr. Lexx, M.D., a marriage and family therapist. “Taking a break can be a relief, and it can also build up intimacy in ways outside of physical touch: sharing stories, reading to one another, playing games, talking about art and culture.” | “Right now, when the world feels on fire, pulling away from a partner may be self-care,” said Lexx Brown-James, better known as Dr. Lexx, M.D., a marriage and family therapist. “Taking a break can be a relief, and it can also build up intimacy in ways outside of physical touch: sharing stories, reading to one another, playing games, talking about art and culture.” |
| Dr. Lexx continued: “There’s also nice, simple things you can do for each other, like helping with the garden or laying out your partner’s pajamas. By relating to each other outside of physical touch, you start to bond, and it creates a form of stress-free foreplay. This helps sexual connection feel more organic and less obligatory.” | Dr. Lexx continued: “There’s also nice, simple things you can do for each other, like helping with the garden or laying out your partner’s pajamas. By relating to each other outside of physical touch, you start to bond, and it creates a form of stress-free foreplay. This helps sexual connection feel more organic and less obligatory.” |
| In the spirit of Dr. Lexx’s “nice, simple things,” early yesterday morning, I hiked up Atlantic Avenue searching for coffee for me and my partner. When nothing was open, I started to cry. It wasn’t about the coffee. It was my first heavy cry of the coronavirus, and it brought me to my knees. I cried about the pain good people are going through. I cried for all the sickness and all the loss. I cried to honor the emergency responders and frontline workers. And I cried for my kids whose childhood would now, in part, be defined by this pandemic. | In the spirit of Dr. Lexx’s “nice, simple things,” early yesterday morning, I hiked up Atlantic Avenue searching for coffee for me and my partner. When nothing was open, I started to cry. It wasn’t about the coffee. It was my first heavy cry of the coronavirus, and it brought me to my knees. I cried about the pain good people are going through. I cried for all the sickness and all the loss. I cried to honor the emergency responders and frontline workers. And I cried for my kids whose childhood would now, in part, be defined by this pandemic. |
| When I came home, I told my partner I was feeling a little fragile (something I have never said, perhaps, in my entire life). We took turns with child care and conference calls. We refreshed the news, hoping for better days; and we talked — more than usual — about our secret struggles and frustrations, about the future, and about what our family might look like after this has passed. | When I came home, I told my partner I was feeling a little fragile (something I have never said, perhaps, in my entire life). We took turns with child care and conference calls. We refreshed the news, hoping for better days; and we talked — more than usual — about our secret struggles and frustrations, about the future, and about what our family might look like after this has passed. |
| Early evening, we strolled our sleeping little ones as we took a long, aimless walk. We held hands, not because that’s our style, but because we wanted to feel close and steady. We ordered street-side cocktails from a man who slid them to us with a shuffleboard cue. I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to say we had “a nice night”; that it felt as if there was an old country love song playing softly on a scratched record; like we were, maybe, resetting — together. But I will say, at the end of our walk, I kissed him. I kissed him like I meant it. And then we went upstairs. | Early evening, we strolled our sleeping little ones as we took a long, aimless walk. We held hands, not because that’s our style, but because we wanted to feel close and steady. We ordered street-side cocktails from a man who slid them to us with a shuffleboard cue. I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to say we had “a nice night”; that it felt as if there was an old country love song playing softly on a scratched record; like we were, maybe, resetting — together. But I will say, at the end of our walk, I kissed him. I kissed him like I meant it. And then we went upstairs. |