When I Lost My Husband in My Sixties, BDSM Soothed My Grief

This story is based on an interview with the editors of The Doe.

It was April 24, 1994 when I saw my future husband at a networking meeting for holistic practitioners. I had met him once before and knew he was going to be there. Something told me I had to get to the meeting. I rushed home and put on a really sexy dress. An hour after I arrived, he walked through the door. I heard a voice, loud and clear in my head, “You’re going to marry him.”

I was 38 at the time. He was eight years younger than me. We had such a deep connection—mentally, emotionally, spiritually. We were on the same level with most things in life. We didn’t need to communicate in full sentences. He was very kind and generous and put me on a pedestal. I was his purpose in life. It was just incredible to be loved that big and that deeply. I had gotten hurt many times in life, by people who didn’t deserve my love. But he melted my heart when it had begun to get crusty.

He had a stroke on Monday, March 20, 2022. He called me at 1:47 p.m. and said, “I'm feeling a little stroke-y.” By the time I got to the hospital, he was unable to speak. I told him, “Come back to me, I need you.” He managed to turn his body towards me, and he shook his head “no.” They asked permission to intubate him because I naively thought they could do something. Two nights later, I saw his deceased mother at the foot of my bed. She was smiling gleefully. I knew that she was happy that her son was coming home to her. On that Saturday, we took him off the respirator.

After he died, I couldn’t function. I didn’t know what to do. There were a lot of people around me for the first three weeks. They didn't want me to cry.  After everybody left, I lost my shit. I started screaming and pounding my fists on the table and sobbing and wailing. I signed up for grief counseling and a grief support group, which both have been immeasurable in my healing. About a year and a half in, one of the women started talking about how grief turns to lust. She said, “I've become a shameless hussy.” And I was like, “Yes!” I had so been craving lots of sex.

The orgasms have stimulated the oxytocin, the serotonin, the endorphins—and my brain was craving that.

I’ve always been a little into kink, and my husband gave me what he could. He loved black vinyl, and he knew I liked to be spanked and restrained. But he was afraid of what he called my “salacious energy.” He was a yeshiva boy, and to him, it was just dirty. He thought there was something ungodly about it, and he wouldn't allow himself to go there. We had mostly vanilla sex—or vanilla-plus, I guess. He tried. 

After that woman’s comment, I started reaching out to guys on Tinder, not really for kink, but to just get laid. One of the guys was kind of a Dom. I called him “daddy,” and he called me “my baby.” We would do video fantasies and I would wear cute outfits. Meanwhile I was settling my husband's estate and trying to sell his business and was hyper-emotional, so I got more connected to this Dom emotionally than I should have. He started calling me less and less until one day he was gone. It just made the grief harder at that moment. 

I met a bunch more guys on Tinder. I actually got laid once, and the guy ghosted me afterwards. He wasn't worth my time, anyway. At one point, a friend told me how healing BDSM had been for her after her divorce, because a real Dom will treat you like a queen. It's all about you. It's all about your orgasms. You develop the framework for what's acceptable and what's not acceptable. So I went on Feeld, which is a kink app, and I advertised for a sensual Dom. Within 30 seconds—and I'm not exaggerating—I had 85 likes.

I had phone sex with one guy. He looked like an old biker dude. He’s 52, which is 16 years younger than me. He’s hot, he’s just beautiful. His voice was incredible, which to me is everything. I love a deep, resonant voice. And then that night, in the middle of the night, I woke up and my clitoris was pulsating. The next morning I texted him and said, “Am I using electronics too much to get off, or do you have Jedi powers?” He texted back, “Powers.” 

We just connected on a deep level. We started talking and texting all day, every day. Eventually, we met in person. He came over for “training,” just to test the waters, to see what my boundaries were. It was all about setting boundaries. My orgasms have gotten more and more intense. Once, he made me cum for two hours straight. I even cum on command! That never happened with my husband; it would take him an hour to get me off. But with this guy, we're both tapped into that salacious energy that my husband couldn't handle.

He's brought me into things I didn't think I would ever be into, like nipple clamps. Or butt plugs, which is funny, because my business for 30 years was giving colonics. He had me walk around with the butt plug in, and all these nerve endings were firing, and I was elated and in pain at the same time. He had me get a riding crop, because I like my vulva spanked. I’m also curious about trying hard impact play with him, among other things.

This Dom/sub relationship has helped me so much with the grieving process. All the orgasms have stimulated the oxytocin, the serotonin, the endorphins—and my brain was craving that. Now I feel capable; I can do things again. I was in a state of very deep grief. Now I’m able to be grievous for a few minutes, then clear it. I don’t have to live there or stay there for days.

It’s been about four months since we connected. Initially it was just going to be for sex, but we have begun to emotionally connect with one another. Ultimately I’d like another life partner, but he and I haven't discussed that. We'll see where it goes. For now, I’m healing and enjoying myself. Even though as a sub I’m the one who's truly in control, his job is also to push my limits. Initially I told him, “You are going to be my healer.” And he has been.