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Lights, Camera, No Action: When Your Sexual Partner Turns Down Your Social Bubble

Lights, Camera, No Action: When Your Sexual Partner Turns Down Your Social Bubble

Wed, Jun 24, 20 - HANX Official

Join guest blogger Paloma as she lets us in on what it's like to invite a sexual partner into your social bubble... only to be let down gently. Awks. 

 

I met Cal a few months back on the dating app -redacted- and it was lust at first swipe. He’s a fit, funny, film student who likes shit telly and is great at going down on me: what’s not to like? We’ve been sleeping together every week and while I don’t love the late, late nights post curtain call (he’s a part-time usher at a top London theatre), when I feel him crawl into my bed at midnight, smelling like popcorn, warm sweat, and Santal 33, it just feels so right.

 

Or it did. This was pre-lockdown and three months later, I’m bored, sexually frustrated and furloughed AKA desperate to get to grips with my non-committal sexual partner. So, when BJ-sorry, Boris Johnson stated that people who live alone can create social bubbles… reader, I wept tears of horny, horny, joy. I was trembling as I composed the text to end all come-ons:

 

P: Did you see the news? Social bubble with me later? 😉 xxx

 

An hour passed. Two. I gnawed my thumbnail skin and stress ate sad shards of the Easter egg my mum had sent me months back, now crumbling in their balled-up foil wrapper.

 

11pm. My phone vibrates and I reach for it at what can only be described as the speed light.

 

C: Sorry, already sorted something but hope you’re ok?

 

I’m not sure if that’s the sound of my heart dropping or the thud of my battered Android phone hitting the carpet. I know we weren’t (aren’t?) exclusive but I never thought he’d have lined up another option so quickly. I didn’t know he had other options. What do you do when you ask your sexual partner to come and give you (a governmentally approved) one and they politely decline? I’m mortified, my cheeks are red, and my mouth is dry, I feel like a bit of a doughnut but I’m also angry. Angrier than I have any right to be, but I can’t quite figure out why. Is it because all I’ve been thinking about during lockdown is sex? More importantly, sex with him? Or because I’d stupidly compiled a list of crap tv to watch together once this was ‘all over’ and we’d realistically need a break from all the makeup sex… and now the pastel yellow list is tucked away in the notes app on my phone like a tell-tale heart.

What was going to be now isn’t and realistically won’t be for the foreseeable future. I should’ve kept my options open, I should’ve played the field, I shouldn’t have got lazy and complacent: anticipating my late night lover’s clumsy footsteps whenever he crawled off the night bus and let himself in (yes, I gave him a key). The little voice in my head tells me that I should turn to dating apps again, but I just can’t be bothered to initiate chat or submit to small talk and go through it all again. Sorry, Barry from Bolton - 54 - GSOH, I just can’t casually commit right now.

 

Now it’s just me, a tub of vegan Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and the best of Big Brother re-runs, scrolling through locksmiths online. Is it my own fault? Probably. Will I get laid before the end of 2020? Probably not.

 

  *Names have been changed.