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I was widowed at a young age – & never want to be in a committed relationship again
When my husband died, I vowed to remain single from now on. Not out of sadness – but because I was not interested in ever having a committed relationship again. My marriage had been traumatic in a way that I only became aware of after its abrupt end, and my top priority now was to raise my four children in a non-toxic environment. My plan to remain a single mother shouldn’t mean that I would hold back sexually and emotionally from now on. I was planning on having affairs – casual but satisfying short-term stories. And as it turned out, that decision earned me the healthiest, most beneficial relationships I’ve ever had because it kept me away from the relationships I’d always automatically accepted as the “norm” before. These new relationships were not monogamous. You were queer. They were sex positive. They often included several partners: inside – sometimes at the same time. They were shameless, transparent, communicative, respectful and loving in a way that I had never known before. Sometimes they were long-distance, sometimes close relationships. They had limits, they were safe, liberating, and paradoxically very stable at the same time. And they always took place outside of my four walls. After a few months of casual dating, however, I fell in love. He met my children and visited us at home. But because he lived in another federal state and was only partially in my city, I felt safe there, because it wasn’t really solid. In order to fulfill my desire for looseness, we also met other people on the side and tried out non-monogamous things. But when he moved to my city, this dynamic shifted – and it became clear to me: I wasn’t capable of a “normal” relationship at all. The limits we had drawn at the beginning weren’t enough, and our relationship grew more and more into something I didn’t want. So I ended the whole thing pretty abruptly. I understood: In a relationship I felt almost really safe only through a “separation of state and church”. Since then, I’ve kept my intimate relationships away from my children. Women – especially single mothers – are often expected to want stability, according to the motto: “Find your: n partner: in, and then get away with the dating apps!” However, many women feel completely at ease in these conventional relationships not so good. This is exactly why I have seen many heteronormative relationships break in lockdown. Many women are simply exhausted from juggling the emotional demands of a marriage, often a large part of the household and a steady job at the same time. Quite apart from that, many single women are also traumatized by past relationships. While we may know what we want – and definitely what we no longer want – we may not be entirely sure how to ask for it or how to find it at all. At any rate, at this point in my life I know that I want intimacy. I want to be supported. I want sex. But I don’t want to commit myself to someone again, marry someone, live with someone, or even bring someone home and introduce them to my family. And I now know that I can do the same thing, even if – as a woman, as a widow, as a mother – I was never encouraged to wish for all of this. Of course, it is not a new invention to limit oneself to affairs or short-term relationships with people who do not have to become more than absolutely necessary. And yet the expectations of mothers of young children – the assumption that stability for us automatically means “long-term relationships”, “monogamy” and “living together” – make it almost impossible for us to ignore these social demands and to enter into relationships in which we each other really feel good. Patriarchy has conditioned us to feel “incomplete” without a firm partnership and thus forced us to assume “security” – even if sooner or later it turns out to be unreliable and fragile. And if a woman refuses to submit to this expected ideology, she is often considered to be “defective”, “moody”, “relational phobic” or even a “slut”. And although I personally got married and had children at a young age – and again became a widow at a young age – not only women in my situation are looking for something that works better for them. I’ve spoken a lot over the past two years to women of all ages and situations – single, married, in relationships, or widowed – who want to try each other out sexually. Many queer women come from monogamous, heterosexual relationships without ever having had queer sex. Sexually speaking, many straight women are in their prime, but so far have hardly had any sexual experiences. And many women are now trying to detach their self-image from the patriarchal norms that have so far determined their lives. As women gradually begin to imagine who we might be, we make our own lust a priority and learn to openly communicate our desire for nontraditional relationships – which, by the way, are worth as much, if not more, than fixed, monogamous partnerships. When it comes to relationships, the focus is so often on time: we value long-term partnerships and we condemn one-night stands. We automatically assume that a great love story is so much more profound than a dozen short ones, and that the path to happiness requires a: n partner: with whom we stick together in good times and bad – even if they bad times get so much worse than we could have guessed. This “And they lived happily ever after” narrative hurts us so much. It whispers to unhappy spouses: Inside the ear: Pull it off, stay tuned. It tells us that a breakup will mean failure and that some sacrifice will have to be made. The emotional connection with short-term partners can actually be so fulfilling. I would even like to claim that I have grown significantly more from the relatively short relationships since my husband’s death than from the 13 years of marriage – because I am now honest with myself. I can live shamelessly and define my own boundaries while breaking down the social boundaries between which I have never felt comfortable. However, drawing these lines can also be difficult when you are falling in love with someone – because when dealing with the people we love, it is almost an instinct to let them into our hearts and homes. This is what love is about: As if it could only prove its full strength to you, it suddenly pervades your whole life and tries to merge it with that of your loved one. But that’s only because we are so uncreative when we try to create our own version of our life. This is exactly where the beauty of short-term relationships, affairs and one-night stands lies: We can give each other what we want without having to commit ourselves to more. This freedom can feel incredibly rehabilitative, especially after a failed committed relationship. Creating safe relationship spaces on our own terms after years of being trapped in harmful relationships will help you grow real. The fact that I accepted my wish to experiment with short-term partners: intimate, even loving, who are on my wavelength in this regard, was an eye-opening experience for me. In addition, it not only feels important to me to split myself into mother and lover, but also natural. I can stay on either side of the Venn diagram; because, as I know from my former Fast relationship, I feel overwhelmed when the two sides of the chart overlap. Torn between my mother and my lover side, it is difficult for me to concentrate on the here and now, overwhelmed by the needs of everyone involved. As a single mother, it is a must for me to be able to focus on the here and now. When I am at home, I belong to my children – and because I am their only living parent, it is even more important to be there for them, to have my door always open. Because I have “outsourced” my relationships, some may claim that I am losing a lot of love as a result. It is actually exactly the opposite: For the first time in my life, I am doing everything out of love: out of love for my family and, more importantly, out of love for myself. At almost 40 years of age, I finally realize what I really want, and how those desires differ from what is expected of me. I live a life in which I only want to swear allegiance to myself and my children – and I can also raise my children alone, supported by friends and relatives who have always been my real life partners. Not making intimate relationships the center of my life may not be an option for everyone – but one that I hope will become more and more socially acceptable in the future. This is the only way more and more people can look for (short- or long-term) partners who they not only like, but who also respect their personal limits. Only then can we stop trying to conform to social norms – and start conforming to ourselves. And that is exactly what true love is. DashDividers_1_500x100 Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here? Should We All Have Sex Every Day? How Home Office Affects Relationships A threesome helped me with the pain of separation
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