I craved no-strings sex after my husband died – now I help other grieving women hook up to fulfil their ‘widow’s fire’

THERE were butterflies in my stomach as I took a last sip of wine and followed the handsome stranger up the stairs.

It had been 20 years since I’d slept with someone new and my emotions were all over the place.

EMMA PHILLIPSON – Commissioned by The Sun

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I’d always been faithful to my husband Andy. He was the John to my Yoko, I thought we’d grow old together. But he was gone and never coming back.

Now I felt a desperate desire for sex with someone else to temporarily ease the pain of his early death – and I’d found him.

I didn’t want a relationship. I wasn’t ready.

Instead, I needed unbridled, no-strings sex with another consenting adult.

When you lose your husband young, you still have wants and needs. You also crave connection intensely. It even has a name – widow’s fire.

But society expects widows to be weeping in black, unable to contemplate inviting another man in their bed.

I knew what people would say, which is why I’d kept my liaison in a Liverpool hotel quiet.

I also felt conflicted and guilty, but there’d been a desire burning inside since I lost Andy in April 2020.

I’d not looked at another man in years but, despite being in lockdown, I’d feel a frisson when I caught an attractive man’s eye at the checkout or clicked with a single client on a Zoom call.

It was like a switch had flicked back on again. Now eight months later, I had the chance to scratch my itch.

The truth was, I’d lost Andy three years before he died. He had a heart attack in July 2017 that left him with severe brain damage.

A consultant told me within six weeks that his story would not have a happy ending.

Andy needed 24-hour care and moved into a home before succumbing to Covid aged just 57.

His death hit me like a train even though I knew it was coming.

I’d been living with dreadful anticipatory grief and had the national lockdown not been in place, I might have started looking for a hook-up sooner, especially since I’d not had sex for three years.

In a weird way, I’m glad it gave me the headspace to grieve and not rush into anything rash.

I had some online counselling and felt ‘match ready’ once the world began to open up, throwing myself into dating apps.

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Dating was tricky for Nicky with her son Finn to raise alone but loved ones stepped in to babysit for her adult weekends away.[/caption]

But things had changed since I’d met Andy on Dating Direct in 2002, marrying two years later and having our son, Finn, in 2007.

Online dating was much more discreet then. Now it was like the wild west, with ‘dick pics’ and ghosting.

It was like having a second job replying to messages and as a lone working mum, running my own events business, I didn’t have time.

I also had some disastrous dates.

Being a widow was something of a passion killer even though the reality is that widows are probably looking for a lot less commitment than other single women.

We also live fearlessly and for the moment, because we know life can change in a heartbeat.

However, lots of men expected me to be miserable or didn’t want to be overshadowed by a person I still adored.

A survey of 500 people who had lost a partner found three in five experienced this strong desire for sex we call ‘widow’s fire’ – and that 58 per cent felt these urges within six months of the bereavement.

But the average wait was one year, three months and two weeks to actually do the deed.

The most common reason for wanting sex again was craving intimacy, cited by 27 per cent of people, followed by 25 per cent saying they simply felt ‘horny’.

Online chat rooms are filled with widows discussing this ‘taboo’ feeling.

“While I was monogamous and faithful with my husband for 11 years, I was pretty promiscuous before we met. So when the widow’s fire hit, I basically just picked up where I left off,” according to elk-mom2943.

“For me, it’s been a good distraction. I don’t really form an emotional connection just from sex, so it’s purely physical.”

Another called Tiny_Emotion_2628 said: “It raged early on. Found a discreet FWB (an old close friend) started finding feelings, broke it off. No regrets, friendship still intact. Felt guilty for being so horny! But understanding it’s a common phenomenon has helped process that. Not feeling guilty about a common biological need now.”

When I joined a support group run by Widowed And Young, I discovered other women in the same boat too.

Dating can be taboo as it provokes strong feelings for family and friends who have also lost that person. You end up having to be discreet.

Young widow Nicky Wake

We were all under 50 but society wanted us to fade into the background, content with the memories rather than craving real physical affection.

If we tried to ‘move on’ too soon, we were judged by people who’d never walked in our shoes.

And even attempting to go on dates was a logistical nightmare if you were a mum and the sole caregiver. It wasn’t conducive to romantic dinners or a one-night stand.

Luckily my friends and father were happy to step in for babysitting, plus I often had to work away.

My mother-in-law was supportive too – she’d also been widowed young and could relate to my situation. Lots of in-laws can’t.

In the end, I met a nice bloke online and we had our dirty weekend away.

I got my hair done, bought a new outfit and make up, and gave myself a pep talk on the train.

I still loved Andy but I was moving forward with life. I also knew I’d have his blessing from discussions we had after one of his friend’s died young and his wife got a new boyfriend.

She was nervous about how we’d react but we were both delighted for her – and said we’d want each other to do the same.

EMMA PHILLIPSON – Commissioned by The Sun

Nicky had mixed emotions the first time she slept with a new man after her husband’s death.[/caption]

That night, after a dinner with lots of wine, we went back to my room to do the deed.

It almost felt like my first time again – it wasn’t wild. Instead it was gentle, respectful and lots of fun, if a bit strange.

And the next morning we got up and had a lovely breakfast together.

I ended up seeing him casually for a couple of years, on and off, and it might have turned into something more if I had been ready for it.

I also dated others who were never going to be more than a bit of fun and a distraction – and knew exactly where they stood.

What I also learned was that dating widowed men was far easier than divorcees. There was a comfortable emotional shorthand.

I didn’t need to explain why I had pictures of another man in my house, why they would be staying there and why he’d always have a piece of my heart.

One non-widower boyfriend couldn’t understand why I still felt grief two years after losing Andy – he thought I should have ‘moved on’.

We broke up soon after.

This led to me launching my own dating app, Chapter Two, in 2022 – a safe space for widows and widowers to look for love, companionship or whatever they desired.

The following year, I started a second service called Widow’s Fire, for hook ups when you are not ready for a relationship but need physical closeness.

I know first-hand how women who’ve lost their lover need the opportunity to fulfil their desires without guilt, with a person on the same page.

Widowed women are judged much more harshly about this than men.

Dating can be taboo as it provokes strong feelings for family and friends who have also lost that person.

You end up having to be discreet.

I once spotted another school dad on a mainstream app and had to delete my account sharpish because I didn’t want people to know what I was doing.

But if I’d been a divorcee, getting back out there would be encouraged and applauded.

When Kelsey Parker announced she was pregnant with new partner Will, three years after the death of husband Tom, the hate sent her way from strangers was disgusted – but sadly not unique.

Widows know more than anyone that life is short. You need to seize happiness and satisfaction where you can

Nicky Wake, dating app founder

Nearly five years on from losing Andy, I’m still single but I’m dating and that works for me.

My son is 17 and we’ve left our family home in Bury for a city centre apartment in Manchester.

He knows that I’ve seen different men since his dad and is mature enough to be happy for me.

But if I’m planning a sleepover, I book into a hotel rather than bring them back. There are some lines I won’t cross.

Nor can I see myself moving a partner in while he’s still at home.

My true passion right now is building my dating community and helping others to find satisfaction, whether that’s sexual, emotional or both.

We’ve had a marriage and two engagements so far, which is a beautiful thing to come out of this loss.

I’m totally invested in the love lives of our users, more so than mine, I think.

I travel to meet them at events around the country and their stories resonate deeply with me, particularly the guilt women feel about pursuing happiness.

They end up being secretive and hiding their rediscovered joy, when they should be allowed to shout it from the rooftops.

That’s incredibly sad when they have been to hell and back.

It’s been refreshing to see recent portrayals of widows on screen, like Carrie dating after losing Big in And Just Like That.

I can’t wait to see the new Bridget Jones film where she has two men on the go after Mark Darcy’s death. This representation is so rare.

Some days I think I’ll never meet anyone as perfect for me as Andy but I’m still willing to try – and have plenty of fun along the way.

Widows know more than anyone that life is short.

You need to seize happiness and satisfaction where you can, whether that’s a one night of passion or a second chance at love.

Nicky is the founder of dating services Chapter 2 and Widow’s Fire. Find out more at chapter2dating.app and widowsfire.dating

EMMA PHILLIPSON – Commissioned by The Sun

Nicky is now focused on finding love for her dating app users[/caption]