Sensuality as a Single Woman

I’ve been single for just over six months now… and let’s just say — it can get frustrating. Sexually.

And OH. MY. GOD.

What is up with the scammers on dating sites?

I miss the old Tinder days — when people were just people. You’d see a pic, chat, meet up, have fun. The end. Do it again.

Now? There’s like a one-in-four chance the guy I start chatting with is half-AI and half-some dude in a country I can’t even pronounce. Definitely not who he says he is.

And finding someone in real life? Good luck. Everyone’s glued to their phone — so I go on my phone too… and the only person I can find to chat with is basically a bot.

Sure, I’ve connected with a couple decent guys — but they’re either across the US or in England. And my bank account is not about that long-distance life right now.

So here I am. I’ve intentionally isolated myself in this small town on the Sunshine Coast.

And you know what?

It’s starting to grow on me.

There’s no city buzz, no quick coffee dates, no artificial swirl of energy that keeps me anxious.

Just quiet. Stillness. Space.

And I’m not only sitting at home being an introvert with a pulse. I’ve been getting out.

I’ve been walking more — the kind of walks where you can actually hear yourself think. The kind where the ocean air softens everything in you.

I hit the farmers market. People smile, talk, say hello. They’re present. It’s like the whole town is on a slower, deeper wavelength.

I even went to a Soul Groove dance event at the Powell River Academy of Music. No choreography. No pressure. Just moving how you feel, among other wild hearts who showed up to shake something loose. It felt like medicine.

And at home?

Sometimes, I hula hoop.

Like — full-on in my living room, in my underwear, blasting some banger that hits just right.

My friend Dixie says the hoop likes bare skin — the water and beads inside it move better that way.

I laugh when I drop it mid-spin, or catch my reflection doing some weird-ass move that no one ever needs to see.

And then — in between those moments — I MFing hit it.

Flow state. Sensual. Powerful. Free.

That’s the thing about sensuality — it’s not just sex. It’s not even about a partner.

It’s about being in your body.

It’s about pleasure in the ordinary.

It’s about claiming your space, your rhythm, your spark — with or without anyone else there to witness it.

Yes — I’m still tempted to run back to the city, line up a few bad dates, and fill my time with the noise.

But here I am…

Alone — and learning to savour my most finite resource:

Time.

And maybe this is what this chapter is really about:

Not chasing a spark…

but becoming one.