After two years of unintentional celibacy following my husband’s departure after three decades of marriage, I found myself yearning for physical connection once again. While I had always believed that a relationship was a prerequisite for intimacy, I realized that, in my vulnerable state, a casual encounter could be a less painful alternative. The notion of a one-night stand—an experience devoid of commitment and perhaps even names—suddenly seemed appealing.
As fate would have it, this desire blossomed just before I headed to Austin, Texas, for the South by Southwest (SXSW) festival. Known for its music, film, and technology showcases, SXSW is also infamous for its casual hook-up culture. I read about this phenomenon and understood why many referred to it as “Spring Break for Adults.”
One possible reason for the atmosphere was the intoxicating allure of potential success. Attendees, many of whom were ambitious young professionals, might someday become influential figures, much like Tom Wolfe’s “Masters of the Universe.” At SXSW, these ambitious souls often flaunted egos as expansive as their ATM withdrawal limits.
Additionally, the warm Austin weather encouraged many to dress lightly, but more likely, the free-flowing alcohol helped people shed their inhibitions. Most importantly, many events were hosted in hotels—ideal for spontaneous rendezvous—allowing one to avoid awkward encounters with previous flings.
I confided in a male friend about my goal, and he surprisingly suggested I look for a “spark.” But if sparks were involved, wouldn’t that contradict the very essence of a fling?
As I prepared for the conference, I wondered if I had the right look to achieve my aim. In my fifties, I maintain good shape, yet I packed my Spanx and a few fitted outfits (which admittedly clashed with the sneakers I needed for running between venues). I resolved to stay open to possibilities and even treated myself to a wax beforehand—self-sabotage was not an option.
Once at the conference, I made every effort to put myself out there. I smiled, struck up conversations, and mingled with younger men (most were quite a bit younger). Each night, I attended at least one of the many parties. Instead of burying my face in my phone, I scanned the room, sipping on a Yellow Armadillo beer and envisioning a neon sign flashing above my head: A-V-A-I-L-A-B-L-E.
However, much like a pyromaniac with a soggy pack of matches, I found no “sparks.” The most I managed were obligatory business card exchanges that would likely end up at the bottom of a laundry basket.
What was I doing wrong? Did I only look “good for my age”? Why was it that I couldn’t enjoy what seemed to come so easily to others at a time when I felt ready for it?
I reached out to my friend once more. He explained that men seeking one-night stands weren’t after depth, and despite my efforts to appear casual, I still emanated “substance.” (Great answer! I thought, true or not. Ugh!). But what could I do to seem less serious and more like a potential companion for a brief encounter?
Upon returning home, I delved into the world of casual hookups—the realm I had neglected to explore earlier. Apparently, I should have been using dating apps like HowAboutWe.com. I should have anticipated that at such a tech-savvy conference, but where was the genuine human connection in that?
I turned to a female friend who had fully embraced the sexual revolution of the ’60s. She pointed out that men had become, in her words, timid and lazy. They no longer needed to pick up on nuances since women had taken on the role of pursuers. This meant that dressing to emphasize my features and being open to opportunities was akin to waving a red flag in front of a blind bull.
What men wanted now, she explained, was akin to an engraved invitation: prolonged eye contact, a seductive smile, encroaching on their personal space, and flirtatious banter. I needed to adopt a more aggressive approach to flirting, a skill I had seemingly forgotten over my long marriage.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. While I believed I could compartmentalize physical and emotional needs, I still craved some level of conversation before and after the heart rates escalated. Why would I want to connect with someone who valued me so little that they didn’t wish to know me? After my experience of being undervalued in marriage, a one-night stand would have only further diminished my sense of self-worth.
Ultimately, though I may have technically failed in my endeavor, I gained a powerful insight. I learned to listen to the voices of those who have long recognized my worth, which far exceeds the messages I received in my marriage.
As I work to embrace this new perception of myself, I remain open to meeting those who value depth and connection. So, if you spot a woman of a certain age at a conference, quietly enjoying her own company, don’t hesitate to say hello. You might just find that luck comes in unexpected ways.
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Summary
After a long period of involuntary celibacy, I attempted to embrace the idea of a one-night stand during a conference, only to find myself struggling with the concept of casual intimacy. Despite my efforts, I learned that my desire for connection and substance ultimately outweighed the allure of fleeting encounters.
Keyphrase: one-night stand fails
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