The last time I experienced intimacy was on my son’s first birthday, and now he’s just turned 4. As he blew out the candles on his cake, I silently celebrated my own milestone: “Happy not having intimacy for three long years.”
At that time, my son’s father and I were still together, but as the years rolled on, our relationship began to deteriorate. Friends repeatedly suggested that I needed to “get out there,” believing that all my struggles could easily be resolved with a night of passion. However, I was well aware that intimacy was not the answer to my problems.
As a nearly 30-year-old single mom, the thought of seeking intimacy just didn’t resonate with me. Honestly, it was the last thing on my mind. With a whirlwind of responsibilities, it became easy to disconnect from that part of my life. Now that three years have passed, I find myself still contemplating my feelings about intimacy.
For a single mom of an infant, and then a toddler, abstaining from intimacy was fairly simple. I was so drained that I hardly had the mental space to even miss it. Dating felt impossible; my child was very attached to me, making it difficult to leave him for any length of time during his early years.
To add to that, I lived with my parents, which complicated matters further. In my early twenties, living at home was challenging enough, but as a 30-year-old with a young child, it felt even more constraining. I didn’t want to explain my dating life to them, nor was I interested in fabricating stories. Let’s be real: many men my age aren’t exactly eager to date a single mom living with her parents, even if it’s just for something casual.
After parting ways with my son’s father, I struggled with my mental health, and no amount of intimacy would have resolved that. I poured myself into my career, often working long hours during odd times. Even when I did find a moment to go out, I was simply too exhausted to engage.
However, as my writing career began to flourish, I started to regain some confidence. I put more effort into my appearance and ventured out with friends occasionally. There was even a night at a bar when a charming guy flirted with me. While he was cute, I felt nothing but a wave of nausea. Though I was starting to feel better about myself, I realized I still wasn’t ready for intimacy or dating. My friends playfully teased me about needing to get back out there, but I firmly told them to let me be and stop implying that my lack of interest was a problem. (A side note: Honest friends are often the best kind).
My friends couldn’t fathom how I managed to switch off my sexual desires. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as difficult as it seemed — at least not for me. I had never placed a huge emphasis on intimacy. I enjoy it, but I’ve always prioritized companionship, with intimacy naturally following. Casual encounters aren’t for me, and I’m not in a place where I want to form attachments. So, for now, intimacy remains off the table.
Truly? I’ve grown to appreciate the life I’m building for myself. I’m content with my work, my friendships, and my child. I’m not interested in worrying about looking appealing for anyone. I relish the freedom of skipping makeup, not shaving, and living in leggings and t-shirts. By 10 PM, I’m usually ready for bed. The idea of going out to meet someone new feels exhausting, although if someone were to come into my life, I wouldn’t turn them away. But actively searching? Not happening.
Let’s be real: the thought of dating again sends shivers down my spine. In my early 30s, this isn’t where I envisioned myself. The idea of intimacy with a new partner is daunting. I had been intimate with the same person for four years, and since then, my body has undergone significant changes. My breasts have sagged from breastfeeding, I have stretch marks, and I’m not sure I can muster the energy to juggle a relationship along with motherhood and work.
Not to mention the logistics of arranging childcare while trying to find time for intimacy. It all feels incredibly overwhelming.
In theory, it might sound appealing to flirt with attractive men, but in reality, I’d much prefer to retreat to my bed alone, indulge in ice cream, and binge-watch my favorite shows. A little kiss here and there might be nice, but the thought of actual intimacy? That’s a whole different story. Clearly, my hesitance indicates that I’m just not ready — and that’s perfectly okay.
For those navigating similar feelings or situations, this article from our blog provides excellent insights on the intersection of motherhood and intimacy. Additionally, if you’re considering starting a family, check out this resource for home insemination options and more information on pregnancy.
In summary, my journey as a single mom has led me to discover that intimacy isn’t a priority right now. I’m focused on my career, my relationships, and my personal happiness. While the idea of dating can be intimidating, I know that there’s no rush, and I’m content with where I am.