I was due to have a play date on the afternoon of Tuesday 17th March. When we planned it I thought it would be the perfect activity for getting over the Eroticon comedown and that I’d be sharing stories of the weekend with my friend. In reality, I was self-isolating having started to show symptoms over the weekend. He was also feverish and isolating. In lieu of having actual me that day I snapped a photo for him. It was a good photo so I also sent it to Exhibit A and American Chap. I didn’t know then that I’d started a ‘thing’. A thing that would last 122 days – exactly one third of this crazy fucking leap year.
I scrolled back to the messages that went alongside that first photo. A jokey chat about imagining what it would be like to not kiss another human for months on end and how ridiculous that would be. Me shout typing: “IMAGINE THE EPIC TENSION IF YOU HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO FUCK FOR WEEKS.” Him: “OMG, fucking after that would be phenomenal!” It seemed like a crazy notion at the time.
Six days later the UK went into full lockdown. It would be nearly three months before he and I saw each other again. We were right though. The tension was epic and the sex was phenomenal. Not-getting-past-the-hallway-pulling-clothes-off phenomenal. My reunions with him and with Exhibit A are not providing me with any strong evidence that a sustained absence is bad for chemistry!
I have absolutely bloody loved this project. It’s been a creative red thread through the strangest of times and a way to keep a part of myself alive while I couldn’t actually be with people. An unexpected benefit has been how completely confident I have become in how attractive my body is, to me and others. I always talked the talk; I often didn’t walk the walk. But it’s hard to not to be reassured about how hot you are when you take a daily nude for four months and receive numerous messages of lust and encouragement.
But all good things must come to an end…
Photo by Exhibit A