There comes a time in every girl’s life when she finds herself alone somewhere thinking about, well, life in general. It’s a completely unavoidable situation so alas, there I was, it was a Thursday night. I’d had a bath (completed with a glorious Lush bath bomb) and was now sprawled across my bed in some rather unattractive, oversized pyjamas, probably covered in Pringles crumbs, with a busy mind and a heavy heart. Why you ask?
I was thinking about my love life, or lack thereof.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not unhappy as a single woman and I’m sure if you know me personally, you’ll sure as hell know that I’m pretty content living in my own little bubble without the deep insecurities of needing a partner. However, all jokes aside, sometimes I do think it would be nice. I know, nice is a terrible word to use, but it’s true. As you can imagine, as a single woman, I’m open to all sorts of eventualities when it comes to dating – whether that be swiping on Tinder, meeting men in bars, friends with benefits, actual first dates – the whole kit and caboodle, but now, I’m just not sure.
As I lay there on my bed that night, I took a good look back on the last couple of months and what I’d been up to on the dating scene. I’d had a few sexual encounters which – at the time – I thought I was absolutely gagging for. Now, not so much. Yep, I’ll admit it. I was wrong. I don’t think I actually wanted sex and although I thoroughly enjoyed it, that wasn’t what I really wanted. It was the physical attention of another I craved, not the intercourse.
I can only assume that I am seriously lacking Oxytocin (that’s the ‘love’ hormone to you and I). Apparently, to get it flowing, all you really need is a bit of fondness in the form of a hug or a kiss, not even full sex, but you still get the same buzz without being left scantily clad and spectacularly dissatisfied at the end of the night.
It’s a pretty big thing for me to admit and as much as I like to think I’m an ice queen with the ability to switch off my emotions as quickly as I can the lights in my bedroom, I can’t and that’s perfectly human. I’ve convinced myself for years that I don’t want or need a bit of affection, or a cuddle, or a hand to hold, but turns out that deep down, maybe I do, or at least right now anyway I’m certain I’d go for a spoon over a shag.
What has happened to me? I’ve always been this strong, independent woman who don’t need no man and all of sudden, I’m lying in bed excited at the thought of going to sleep with a man’s arms around me. I tried to convince myself that the Pringles I’d eaten previous to my lounging about on the bed had been spiked with some sort of love potion but that feeling’s kinda stuck with me, so unfortunately (or fortunately), I’m starting to accept that I’m no longer the ice queen I thought I once was.
I guess sometimes, when we’re lying on our beds at night thinking about life, we’ve got to cut ourselves some slack and realise that it’s okay to want something you don’t want to admit. I’ve always had my guard up, but for once, I’m letting it down to be honest with myself. I’m human, and…
I don’t need sex, I want a hug.