Watching Jason* drink the last of his water from across the room, I felt a pang of desire, despite only meeting him that day. Placing the glass down, Jason approached me – and then he kissed me. It was electric, one of those kisses you know will lead to sex, and I was only too happy to lead him to the bedroom. It was brilliant sex, but there was one problem – it was after a funeral.
This was the first time I’d ever had a one-night-stand after a funeral. And honestly, I think it was my best sex ever.
How We Met
The funeral had been for a man named Nicolas*. I’d known him since I was young – he worked with my father and would often come for dinner. That meant I also got to know his wife, Anne*, and learned about his two sons, John* and Jason, the former ten years my senior, the latter five years older again. I knew John quite well, but his brother lived in Austria and I only got snapshots of his life through social media.
Sadly, in the summer of 2007, John died in an accident and his death changed everything. My parents went to the funeral, but I was left alone at our house. I never got the chance to give my condolences to his family.
Reconnecting After Years
Nicolas and Anne never recovered. They withdrew into themselves and our families fell out of touch. For years, my only connection to them was Jason’s social media – I watched his life unfold from afar; noticing that he’d moved back to Greece after his brother’s death.
My life also continued. I started a journalism career and got married in my late twenties – a spontaneous decision that didn’t work out. I got divorced a few years later and began raising my two kids on my own.
It was only after losing both my parents that I decided to try and reconnect with Nicolas – I felt it would keep me close to my mum and dad. We hadn’t spoken in years – but after Nicolas agreed to meet up, it was like no time had passed: his eyes carried the same sweetness, and there was still so much warmth to him. I started visiting Nicolas and Anne once a month with my kids.
Then, sadly, last year, Nicolas passed away – in losing him, it was like this last living piece of my own father was now gone too. I was heartbroken. I felt grateful to be given the chance to pay my respects at the funeral – but nothing could have prepared me for how that night would end.
The Funeral and the Spark
On a warm August morning, I put on the only black clothes I owned and headed to the church where the funeral was taking place. Anne was, understandably, utterly distraught. I hated seeing her in a terrible state, so it was nice to see the handsome man beside her, offering support. I knew this had to be Jason.
Despite the years that had passed – he was clearly now in his 40s – it was like meeting his brother again. They had the same height, face shape, and grey eyes. Intrigued, I went over to offer my condolences. He kissed me on both cheeks – I was caught by surprise and blushed.
At the wake, Jason and I got the chance to talk a little more. 'My brother talked about you all the time,' he said. 'He said you were a real handful.' I was definitely attracted to him. Conversation soon strayed from reminiscing about the deceased to our personal lives. I admitted that I was divorced and raising my two children on my own and he looked at me with such interest that I got butterflies all over again.
The Night Together
I was starting to think the attraction was mutual, so when I found myself in his car with some people he was driving home, I didn’t complain. He offered to drive me home last and, after sitting in mostly amicable silence – during which time I just thought how unfortunate it was that this was the first time we had met – I suggested he come upstairs for a glass of water.
In the lift, I wanted so badly to kiss him but the rational part of my brain scolded me for daring to have such thoughts about a man who had just lost his father. Once inside my flat though, that all changed and after that incredible sex, we just laid in bed together. There was no talking or hugging, just satisfied silence. Eventually Jason got up and said he was going back to Anne’s, and I agreed it was the sensible idea – he should be with his grieving mother – and got up to walk him to the door.
What Happened Next
I waited to see if he would ask me out or suggest we meet again, but he said nothing. I must admit I was a bit disappointed. But then I told myself that perhaps this night was what we both needed. Perhaps having a one-night-stand after a funeral was the perfect distraction from grief – and maybe that was all it needed to be.
However, a week later he called and asked if I would like to go out for a drink. Since then, we have been going on dates and having good sex. I wouldn’t call it a relationship, because we’ve never discussed being exclusive; I’d say it’s a situationship that, for the time being, is suiting both our needs.
While I never imagined I’d hook up with someone after a funeral, on this occasion I felt it helped our minds and bodies deal with our grief and stress, and that we were able to soften each other’s pain a little bit. Sometimes, it’s as simple as two people dealing with human sadness in that most human of ways – in the bedroom.
