Nicky, 54

I thought: I’ve found someone else who wants to live every moment like it’s their last – he gets it

When my husband Andy died in 2020, my grief manifested in unexpected ways. I craved sex, touch and intimacy – anything to soften the shock, offer comfort or make me feel less alone. I discovered that “widow’s fire” – an intense desire that is rarely spoken about – is very common.

Feeling judged and alone, I joined a no-strings hook-up site, for widowed people trying to move forward without shame or stigma. I knew many others must be feeling the same desire, guilt and confusion. I’d been using WidowsFire for a couple of years when I got a message from Dan (“a silver fox, direct, charming and dominant”) while on holiday with my son.

On our first date, the chemistry was instant. He looked even better than his pictures, which never happens. After two non-alcoholic beers, he suggested we go back to mine. We almost ran down the corridor, and had sex until 4am. It was the best first-date sex I’d ever had. I remember hoping that it wasn’t just a one-night stand.

I met his kids on our third date. When you’re widowed, there’s no shared custody – you are your children’s everything, all the time – so blending families happens quickly.

There’s a “fuck it” widow’s mentality because you know how quickly life can end. So when Dan drove us to an industrial estate a few dates in and said he’d booked an hour in a sex dungeon, I thought: I’ve found someone else who wants to live every moment like it’s their last – he gets it.

With Dan, everything feels as it’s meant to be. We spend hours in bed talking – the intellectual chemistry is the strongest I’ve ever felt. I wrestle with that sometimes, asking myself whether I love Dan more than I loved Andy. But relationships are all about timing, and Andy was the right person to share those 20 years of my life with.

Being with a widower means being with someone who understands the grief, the loss, the loneliness. There’s a deep emotional connection because we know the horrors the other has been through – and the deeper the connection, the better the sex.

Dan, 52

Being widowed gives you a ‘to hell with it’ mentality and makes you more unapologetic about your desires

The lovely thing about dating another widowed person is that you immediately have something in common.

Nicky and I first met on a beautiful winter’s day. She seemed independent and sexually confident – we both said meeting the other was like meeting ourselves. Being with a widow means they understand things: like if a certain song comes on, you might suddenly become quiet, or start crying a little, and that’s OK.

There are different expectations of men and women moving forward after loss. Men seem to move on faster, and if a man sleeps with someone soon after his partner dies, people tend to sympathise, assuming it’s because he must miss his wife. Whereas women are judged much more harshly.

My wife and I were together for 26 years, so when I started seeing other people three months after she died, the dating landscape was unrecognisable. And I had to ask myself: am I looking for comfort, sex or for someone to step into the role of wife and mother?

I got into a new relationship quite quickly, but when that ended after two years, I realised that no one is going to fill that hole – I need to date someone for me, not to replace my wife. When I got together with Nicky, my children were older and her son was grown up, so it was easier to merge our lives and families.

Being widowed gives you a “to hell with it” mentality and makes you more unapologetic about your desires. I’ve learned that life is too short not to be who you want to be.

What began as a sexual connection has grown into a loving relationship where we sit in front of the telly and just hold each other. More than anything, I know Nicky needs to feel held, to be told it’s OK, that somebody’s got her again.