After more than two years of involuntary celibacy—following my husband’s departure after three decades of marriage—I found myself yearning for physical connection once more. I was aware that I wasn’t ready for a full-blown “relationship,” which I had always believed was essential for intimacy; in my still-fragile state, that kind of bond only invited more heartache. For the first time, the thought of a one-night stand—casual sex without strings, perhaps even without exchanging names—felt appealing.
This newfound desire emerged just in time for my trip to Austin, Texas, to speak at South by Southwest (SXSW), an annual convergence of music, film, and technology that has earned a reputation as a prime location for casual encounters. I read about its reputation and realized that SXSW could easily be dubbed Spring Break for Grown-Ups.
One theory behind this phenomenon was the intoxicating allure of potential success. Many attendees might someday become influential figures, reminiscent of the “Masters of the Universe” described by Tom Wolfe. At SXSW, these future moguls often had egos as inflated as their daily ATM withdrawal limits. The warm Austin climate was also cited as a factor, encouraging people to shed their clothing, but more likely, it was the copious amounts of free alcohol that prompted them to drop their inhibitions.
However, the most compelling reason was that many sessions took place in hotel venues—perfect spots for spontaneous rendezvous. Being away from home eliminated the awkwardness of encountering a one-time fling in familiar territory. With this environment, casual sex seemed to become an unscheduled event, a way to fill those awkward moments between panels.
I shared my intentions with a male friend, who unexpectedly advised, “Look for a ‘spark.’” But if there was a “spark,” wouldn’t that contradict the idea of a fling? Naturally, I questioned whether I had the right look to achieve my goal. At fiftysomething, I was in good shape, but I packed my Spanx and form-fitting attire—albeit a bit comical with my sneakers meant for dashing from one venue to another. To avoid any last-minute hesitations, I even made sure to get waxed before heading to Austin.
Once at the conference, I seized every chance to introduce myself. I smiled, engaged in conversations, and spoke with many younger men (most of whom were significantly younger). Each night, I attended at least one of the endless parties. Instead of fixating on my phone or pretending to be busy with my iPad, I looked around while nursing a Yellow Armadillo beer, imagining a neon sign above my head flashing: A-V-A-I-L-A-B-L-E.
Yet, like a firestarter with a soggy pack of matches, I found no “sparks.” The exchanges remained limited to business cards tucked into pockets, seldom to be seen again before laundry day.
Where had I gone wrong? Did I not look appealing, but merely “good for my age”? Why couldn’t I partake in an experience that seemed so accessible to everyone else when I was finally ready?
Reaching out to my friend again, he explained that men seeking one-night stands often weren’t looking for depth, and regardless of my attempts to appear carefree, I still exuded “substance.” (Good point! I thought, whether accurate or not. Darn it!). But what could I do to seem trivial enough to be considered a candidate for casual encounters?
Upon my return, I delved into the “How?” of hooking up that I had overlooked. Apparently, I should have engaged with dating apps like HowAboutWe.com. One could argue that in a tech-heavy conference, this was a given, but I longed for genuine human connection.
I consulted a female friend who had embraced the sexual liberation of the ’60s. She revealed that men had become—how did she phrase it? Timid and lazy. They no longer needed to pick up on subtle cues since women had taken the lead in pursuing. Dressing to accentuate my features and being open to opportunity was akin to waving a red flag in front of a blind bull.
Today’s men, she explained, expect nothing less than an engraved invitation: lingering eye contact, a seductive smile, encroaching personal space with touch, and flirty conversation. I needed to become much bolder in my advances, which had long escaped my memory during my years of marriage.
I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Despite believing I could separate physical and emotional needs, I envisioned having someone to converse with before and after our heart rates soared and then slowed. Why would I want to connect with someone who valued me so little they didn’t care to know me? Having felt devalued in my marriage, a one-night stand would have diminished me even further.
While I technically didn’t achieve my goal, I learned an invaluable lesson: to heed the sentiments of those closest to me who have long affirmed that my worth exceeds what I had been led to believe in my marriage.
As I work to embrace a new self-image, I remain open to encounters with those who appreciate depth. So, if you spot a woman of a certain age at a conference who isn’t clamoring for attention, take a moment to say hello and get to know her. You might discover a different kind of luck than you anticipated.
Summary
In this reflective piece, Cora Thompson candidly shares her journey of seeking a one-night stand after years of celibacy following her divorce. Despite her efforts to engage in the SXSW environment, she ultimately discovers that her worth is greater than mere physical encounters, affirming the importance of emotional connection and self-value.