The quarandiaries: Solo distancing
A peek into real sex lives during quarantine
For many of us, quarantine is upending the rhythm of our daily lives, including what goes down between the sheets. But is it affecting the sex lives of single and coupled people differently, and if so, how?
We asked friends of Coral to keep a sex diary for one week during quarantine. Here’s what a 34-year-old single woman living in Los Angeles recorded.
Woke up pretty early for a Sunday (as if weekends even matter anymore) with really ambitious plans to clean my whole apartment, but first I lounge in bed and check Instagram. I swear it felt like everyone else was in a relationship before quarantine, so it’s even worse now: my feed is basically just couples baking bread and making cute jokes about being sick of each other. It’s so annoying.
I check my DMs and see that I’ve got one from my college boyfriend, which is really random. He was so hot but kind of a dick, so I decide to leave his message unread for a while and leave him hanging. I check my Tinder profile and swipe right on a couple of dudes even though I’m not really feeling them and obviously have no plans to meet.
What I am feeling, however, is my trusty vibrator. I got a waterproof vibrator about a year ago and it Changed. My. Life. I take it into the shower with me and use it in my favorite way: first I rub it on my nipples and outer labia until I’m really, really turned on, then I lie in the tub with the hot water on and rest it on my clit. (On my back is the most reliable position for me to orgasm. I know what I like!) Just before I climax, I start fantasizing about my college BF going down on me, and that pushes me over the edge. I get up and take my sweet-ass time washing my hair. Living alone is the best!
I work freelance and oh-so-luckily had a three-month contract lined up before the whole pandemic hit, and have about nine weeks of work left. I know I should start reaching out to professional contacts now so I’m not screwed when this job is over, but just the thought of looking for work gives me so much anxiety that I switch from checking my inbox to checking my Instagram. I’ve let my ex sweat for 24 hours, so I finally open his DM. He’s living across the country now and says he’s been thinking about me. He says he’s been thinking about that time our fucking woke up his roommates and also that I gave the best head he’s ever had. It gets better from there. I feel myself getting wet reading his message and start scrolling through his recent pics: yup, still hot. Work emails are rolling in though, so I put my phone in my desk without replying.
Not gonna lie: I’ve been thinking about him all day. I send him a message: “Good memory. If I were there I’d get on my knees and beg for your cock in my mouth. If you were here, what would you do to me?” I check to see if he’s responded so often that I have to turn my phone off to get anything done, but it feels good to be sexting. I feel pretty chipper and bouncy for the rest of the day, even though I don’t hear back from him.
I check my DMs as soon as I wake up and… still no response! Is this punishment? I knew he was a dick!
After work I make a pound of pasta with a creamy cauliflower sauce that is, frankly, amazing. I eat most of it in bed while watching some random rom-com on Netflix. Does the love interest look kind of like my ex, or am I going crazy? I pause the movie, open a new browser window, pull out my vibrator, and masturbate to some believable porn of a woman receiving oral sex. When I’m done I realize I’m exhausted: I think I’ve been more stressed out than I even realize, and it’s only after orgasm that I feel a real release. I fall asleep with Netflix on and the empty plate on my nightstand. Once again: living alone is the best.
I’m having a second cup of coffee and flipping through Tinder when I get a text from my ex: “Got your message. You’ve always been a dirty girl. I wish I could see you right now.” I’m instantly giddy and horny, but I don’t text back right away.
An hour is as long as I can wait. I text back that he can see me, and send a really great shot of my breasts. He replies immediately with heart eyes and the eggplant emoji (LOL) and asks if I want to FaceTime. I tell him I’m working, but that I’ll be in touch.
He sends me a dick-pic, which actually makes me laugh. Do guys not understand that pics of their dick out of context do nothing for me? I text back the tongue emoji anyway and he asks me for another shot of my boobs. I take one and send it and after a while he texts back that he’s jerking off. I don’t join in, but it makes me feel good to know that he’s jerking off to me, honestly. It makes me feel hot.
I’m tense but I want to be sleepy, so I get into bed and reach for my vibrator only to discover a tragedy: the batteries are dead! I wonder if they’re considered essential items and how fast Amazon can deliver them. I place an order and hope for the best, but it kills the mood and I end up scrolling Instagram for an hour. I feel a little lonely and stressed. I miss my friends, so I set up a Zoom call for tomorrow night.
I spend my whole lunch hour sexting with my ex. It comes really easily because we have a history and because there’s so many good memories to relive. He knows what I like and vice versa. This time I ask him if he wants to FaceTime and we make a date for the weekend, when I’ll have more time. I’ve never had video sex before. I’m nervous and excited!
I get to bed a little later than usual after Zoom cocktails with friends. I obviously tell them all about the FaceTime date and even get some tips: check the lighting in advance, turn the volume up, and, if you can, try to come first. Duh!
Even though the sex is virtual, I shower and shave my legs. It feels fun to get ready for a date and taking time to appreciate my body feels amazing. The anticipation is turning me on.
I’ll be honest: it’s awkward at first. We haven’t seen each other in a few years and we both feel like we have to small-talk for a while. I’m surprised to see that he looks more nervous than I am! I decide to put him out of his misery and ask if he wants to watch me unbutton my top. He says yes and looks really grateful, which makes me feel powerful and also a little tender towards him. I end up doing a full strip tease, really getting into it, and before long we’re both masturbating. It’s really hot, but I can’t actually come because I feel a little on the spot. It’s too much pressure that he’s watching me! After he comes, I fake an orgasm, tell him I’ll call him again next week and end the call. Now that I’m alone, I’m able to come, and it’s really good. When I’m finished, I take a nap. The perfect Saturday alone!