The death of sex amid the anxiety

When sent a picture of breasts, a contact responds immediately

In Summary

• A friend with benefits blows Samantha off, but a single colleague takes the bait

A girl takes a selfie
A girl takes a selfie

So what if other publications have written about sex during Covid-19? You simply find a different angle. And the fact that my deputy is showing me up in front of my boss has got me riled up.

I’m going to write the best darn story that magazine has ever had! I pick up my phone and scroll through the contact list until I get to a familiar name. He’s perfect. Nothing like a friend with benefits for a booty call. And nothing like a personal experience to write a good story with.

Me: Hey. You want to come over?


He is online but the ticks on my WhatsApp message remain grey. As I wait for him to read it, I check out some of the things that have been written on the topic.

Many people think there will be a population boom after Covid-19, including bookmakers. It’s so strange, the things people bet on. But most of the articles are speculative, I need something more substantive.

What are the condom manufacturers saying? Cold, hard (pun!) sales are the numbers I’m most comfortable with. People can lie on polls and the like, but sales are sales.

Ah, I have come across something from the boss of Reckitt Benckiser (the company that owns Durex condoms). He says sales are way down. Yes, one-night stands, etc., are obviously not happening with the closures of bars, but he is also saying couples are not having sex either. He blames it on the manifestation of anxiety.

Interesting. This might be a good time to place a bet with those bookmakers. I check my phone again. He has gone offline without reading my message.

I think of my exes and scratch the idea of texting any of them. Perhaps I’ll try someone new. Someone who likes me. I scroll to my messages until I come across a colleague. He’ll do. Single, keeps to himself, discreet.

Me: Hey. You want to come over?


Blue ticks are immediate.

Him: Aren’t we social distancing?

Me: Yes. Distance is not what I have in mind, though…

There is silence for a while and then he responds.

Him: Is there an occasion I’m not aware of?

Me: No, it’s just you and me.

An even longer silence.

Him: Eish. At least buy a guy dinner first (He uses a laughing emoji).

Me: They’ll be dinner and drinks for chemical warfare, fear not. Ha ha.

Him: Is this a joke?

I take a quick picture of my breasts and send it to him. He responds immediately.

Him: What’s the address?

I give him directions and then quickly delete the picture of my boobs. Delete for me or Delete for everyone, WhatsApp wants to know. I pick the second option and delete the picture from both our ends. Trust no one. The delete button is your friend, ladies.

With Tim on the way, I continue to research my article. I think I have enough and start typing it up, complete with the conversation I have just had.

You might be wondering why I’m not jumping into the shower and attempting to get dolled up. Very simply put, it’s Tim. He’ll take what I give him and be grateful. ‘The Death of Sex’ is my dramatic title, and he is merely part of my research. Finally, the ticks turn blue and my friend with benefits is typing.

Him: Hey, hope you’re ok and keeping safe.

Me: Yup. You?

Him: Great. I don’t do that other thing anymore.

Me: What thing?

Him: You.

I pause for a long minute and re-read his message. Is he blowing me off in an extremely rude fashion?