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Frigid Jones' Diary WORDS BY Sohani Goonetillake ART BY Adrienne Aw @illustrations_awy
January: Nine months dick-free It happened on New Year’s Day: I was happily sipping mulled wine and radiating well-travelled aunty vibes, when my family cornered me and asked if I was dating. That’s when it dawned on me. I, like many singles, had undergone an accidental bout of celibacy due to mandatory social distancing. It had been nine months since my last dick appointment and as soon as the thought hit me, I couldn’t shake it. The next week, I felt personally attacked when my doctor asked me if I was sexually active. Shortly after, I diagnosed myself with dickpression: the state of being sad or depressed by the lack of dick in your life. At this point, I was nervous that if I sneezed, dust would shoot out of my vagina. February: On Hinge or unhinged? Initially, I was hopeful and joined dating apps for the first time. However, these apps brought out an ugly side in me. The swiping led me down a rabbit hole of comparison and my sense of inadequacy flared up. I would shine a light on all of my perceived physical and personality deficits. Looking at everyone’s dating CVs made me reconsider everything. Should I be socialising more? Am I too independent? Am I too into my looks? Which begs the question: am I on Hinge or am I unhinged? In the words of Olivia Rodrigo, “it’s brutal out here”. March: Libido or Libi-don’t? I went on numerous successful first dates (humble brag), however, the consecutive dates that followed did not go down so well. My reentering-the-dating-world anxiety was so bad that I forgot to have fun. My immediate thought after a date was — “WHAT IF HE TOUCHES ME?” followed by “OH wait, I want that”. My anxiety had completely destroyed my sex drive. I imagine when most people tell their new sexual partner that “it’s been a while,” what they actually mean is, “I am about to rock that headboard like a sailor on leave” not “I am literally afraid to have sex again”. I should have known I was not ready for intimacy when my friend’s immediate response to me saying “I am seeing someone” was “therapist or boy?”. The anxieties surrounding sex that I thought I had parted ways with in high school had made a comeback. A sequel nobody asked for. UGH, will year 10 ever end for me?
