The truth about widows and no-strings sex: When STACEY HEALE was widowed at 41 she was surprised to find herself longing for intimacy soon after her husband’s death. And as she discovered, she is far from alone…

It was around the 18 month anniversary of my husband Greg’s death from cancer when he was 44 and I was 41 that my friends started to question if I was considering dating.

“Because even if you don’t want a relationship, aren’t you starting to miss the sex?” they asked.

I would have loved to tell them that I was horny as a teen for a long time, but there was so much room for misinterpretation. The topic of dating — especially having sex — after the death of a spouse is still taboo.

However, I can assure you that this is very much the main order of the day in the messages between me and my new friends, Widow. In the club you never wanted to belong to, we know this as “widow’s fire.”

In the five years of Greg’s illness and the torture of his death for two months, my entire identity was ripped away.

Not only had I lost my partner of 15 years and the father of our two young daughters, I lost so many different fragments of myself, including the connection to my own sexuality and desire.

The urge for sex, which appeared almost immediately, felt inappropriate and strange. But the inconvenient truth is that there is no better antidote to death.

This post-traumatic longing is not a facet of loss reserved only for widows; in fact, the desire for sex and intimacy is a healthy and normal, if uncomfortable, response to the most difficult times in our lives and well documented throughout history.

During World War I, soldiers turned to sex workers as they faced the horror of death in the trenches. The baby boom of the late 1940s came after years of war and celebrated the joy of stability. The population peaked ten months after 9/11 and the start of lockdowns due to the Covid pandemic.

Biologically, sex produces feel-good endorphins, which reduce stress and pain. It can help you feel more grounded and connected to yourself, while at the same time increasing a sense of power and control, feelings that are often lacking in those who are grieving.

The act of sex itself evokes a primal sense of life, an attractive attraction to people who have seen the fragility of life up close.

Nevertheless, we find the idea disturbing. It doesn’t help that widows have a bad image. Historically, the tropes have been the bitter singleton, the sad emotional wreck, or the menacing rival bent on stealing your husband.

When I was young, I remember widows who went back to dating had a “companion” or a “gentleman friend.” The terms were patronizing, neutral, and intended to cloud any suggestion that these women might want sex.

Even now, a decidedly closed attitude predominates. I remember a friend describing her widowed mother-in-law at 41 (like me) as “man-crazy” because she had two more monogamous relationships before she died at age 80.

Then there’s the ever-present (if not voiced) thought, “But didn’t you love your husband?” The point is, it’s not an either/or deal. You can have lasting love for what is past while also experiencing lust.

Desire is physical, just like sadness. The day after Greg’s funeral, I completely lost my voice for five days and battled flu-like symptoms for months that left me often unable to do anything but lie in bed and stare at the wall.

My own never-ending desire for sex since Greg’s death has proven problematic — so what should I do? I definitely don’t want a relationship, but I do want to have sex.

When I was in my early twenties, there were “friends with benefits,” people you felt safe with and never had to explain anything to. Now, at age 43, that pool has dried up because everyone I know is married and it seems impossible to meet men anywhere but online, something I’ve never dipped my toe into.

Greg and I got together before the Internet dating boom, and I’d always been thankful I never had to be involved. It looked difficult at the time, so how am I supposed to explain the complexity of my situation in a profile now?

There’s a possible answer for people like me in the form of entrepreneur Nicky Wake, who recently launched WidowsFire, an app specifically for people looking for sex and casual flirtation after the death of a spouse.

Wake, 51, who lost her husband three years ago, understands how difficult it is to navigate the world of dating apps in the aftermath of death — so she decided to create her own app.

Her first app, Chapter 2, specifically targets widows and widowers looking for connection and relationships with others who understand. The app is a great success and now has more than 3,500 members.

However, Wake saw another gap in the market from the messages it received from users and decided to set up a sister app. This time, the focus would be post-death sex without (whisper it) the specter of commitment—as she sees it, “physical comfort” in a flirtatious, non-judgmental space.

“I built both dating apps out of necessity and frustration with the mainstream apps,” Wake explains. “Tinder and Bumble didn’t work for me because it’s always hard to know when to reveal your widow status.

And many widows have no interest in a new relationship or may have children to care for and don’t have time, but still crave touch and intimacy.

‘After a death, people are vulnerable. That’s why we wanted to create a space where widows and widowers could safely meet their sexual needs, together with others who were in the same situation as them.’

In the first few days of the app, over 900 messages were sent between members, confirming what Wake and many other widows know: the Widow Fire phenomenon is real.

“A year after my husband died, I had sex for the first time,” says Wake. “It was nerve-wracking to start over as I had shared my heart and bed with the love of my life for almost twenty years. But I knew life had to move forward and at 49 I was too young to contemplate the rest of my days alone.’

Since then, Wake has been involved in two short-term relationships and a friends with benefits scenario, but knew she wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. Instead, she signed up for WidowsFire herself.

“I do a good job of looking for potential dates once or twice a week,” she says. “I had a lot of fun flirty conversations and a lovely lunch date, but unfortunately the spark just wasn’t there. But I’m certainly open to approaches.’

A 2022 study conducted by Chapter 2 found that 63 percent of people experience increased sexual desire after the death of a spouse or partner, while three in five widows said they had had sex with previous partners.

It’s a truth played out on the TV show And Just Like That…, when Carrie Bradshaw rekindles her romance with Aidan after the sudden death of her husband Mr Big.

The same survey also found that widows can develop a new adventurous attitude towards sex, with more than half of respondents considering experimenting with different genders, ages, and kinks. However, when it comes to actually having sex again, they usually wait more than a year after their spouses die.

In the silence of young widowhood I can hear my sexual desires ringing like a bell, but conversely I find the reality of having sex with someone else a terrifying prospect. When it finally happens, it might feel like the first time—a big build-up, and then I wonder what all the fuss was about.

I applaud all widows who attend to their needs. I believe the courage to find physical connection will be a huge part of their healing process and a step towards regaining control of their lives.

To everyone else, I ask you to remember that what a widow decides to do in terms of sex will be complicated and fraught with emotion.

We do our best in a foreign country. Like you, we strive to be okay.

• For more information visit widowfire.co.uk and chapter2dating.app