Sure, He'll Do

On sex in my 40s and shifting standards.

There’s a scene in When Harry Met Sally when Harry and Sally — both recently out of long term relationships — exchange stories about the horrible dates they had gone on the night before. Sally’s date had pulled out a piece of her hair at dinner and used it as dental floss. Harry’s date was humorless and reminded him, in a bad way, of his ex-wife.

“Harry, I think this takes a long time,” Sally says as she helps him arrange a carpet in his new apartment. “It might be months before we're actually able to enjoy going out with someone new. And maybe longer before we're actually able to go to bed with someone new.”

“Oh, I went to bed with her,” Harry says.

Sally turns and stares at him incredulously. “You went to bed with her?”

“Sure,” he says.

“Huh,” she says.

I first saw this movie in my 20s and I remember also being befuddled — and a little disgusted — by Harry in this scene. Ugh, men. They’ll bone anything.

Now, two decades later, I understand where he’s coming from.

Not too long ago, I was ghosted by a hot Scotsman. We met on Feeld and had been texting on WhatsApp for about a week — I highly recommend exchanging pornographic voice memos with Scottish men, by the way — and I offered to get a hotel room halfway between us so we could spend a night together. All signs pointed to him being very into the idea — until suddenly, a few days before our date, he disappeared. Maybe he was just busy, I thought. I waited. I texted. I waited some more. A day before our date, it occurred to me that perhaps he wasn’t checking WhatsApp, so I sent him a regular text. That’s when I discovered that he had blocked my number.

What the hell.

At this point, I was desperate for sex. I couldn’t fathom how I’d get through the weekend without it. So I went back on Feeld to find someone else who’d be down to fuck in the next 36 hours. Lo and behold, an option transpired — he was 36, somewhat cute, and very eager. I booked a room at a different hotel and invited him to join me for dinner in the lobby restaurant. He obliged.

Readers, the dinner was not stellar. The food was great! The man was not. He was so boring. But more than that, he was a man-child. Although he was less than a decade my junior, he did not present as a fully formed adult male. He reminded me of my college boyfriend, and not in a good way. I asked him if he had any pets and he laughed, saying there was no way he could ever care for another living thing. I asked him what he liked to cook and he said Trader Joe’s Mac and Cheese Bites. He still lived with his mom.

I was left with a big decision: Should I end this unpleasant date or bring him back to my hotel room? Was I going to pull a Harry or a Sally?

I decided I would at least kiss him to see if that clarified things. And as soon as I did, my body took over. Yes, you want this. Suddenly, I didn’t care that he had the maturity of an 18-year-old. Suddenly, I just wanted him to take my clothes off.

As it turns out, there are benefits to having sex with man-children: They have boundless reserve. He had seven orgasms over the course of seven hours (and me the same). He had zero need for sleep. He took direction well. Sure, there were less sexy things, too — he hit his weed vape every time I went to the bathroom, and (as I discovered later) stole about five of my pot gummies. He also didn’t pack a toothbrush. But he was able to have a fuckload of sex, and it wasn’t bad, and that was more than enough for me. I was thrilled to learn that I wanted a fuckload of sex with him, too — even though he certainly wouldn’t have been my first choice.

Since that night, I’ve thought a lot about why, over the course of 20 years, my standards for sexual partners have shifted and I’m so more comfortable with casual sex. One reason is that I’m no longer looking for a long-term partner or a potential father; I’m merely looking for a penis attached to a suitably inoffensive human being. I’m a hell of a lot hornier than I used to be, too. I also think apps like Feeld make casual sex feel easier and more ethical: You know you’re both on the same page, because you’ve texted about your expectations in advance. After we said goodbye the next morning, my man-child sent me a text saying he had a nice time, I replied saying the same, and neither of us has texted at all since.

I still wish the hot Scotsman hadn’t ghosted me, but I discovered a whole lot about myself because he did. It’s almost like he did me a favor. It’s amazing to learn that, in my mid-40s, I can enjoy sex with many kinds of men — and that I don’t need my sexual partners to clear the high bar of my youth. When life gives you lemons, perhaps it’s worth checking to see if you now actually like how they taste.

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