STANDING in her kitchen, Clare Macnaughton triple-checks that she can still hear music pumping from my children’s bedrooms.
When she's sure they're occupied, she surreptitiously opens Bumble and looks at the messages.
Having dealt with the tragic loss of her husband Kai – her partner of 26 years – just nine months ago, Clare plucked up the courage to start dating again.
But the mum-of-two revealed to Flying Eze that it was the phenomenon ‘widow's fire' that forced her to get back out there rather than be alone.
‘Craving connection'
If someone had told me, as I held my dying husband that I’d soon be dating again, I’d have said they were mad.
What no one tells you is that grief comes with a side order of raging hormones.
One minute you’re sobbing into your late husband’s T-shirt and drinking in his smell, the next you’re scrolling a dating app like your life depends on it with widow’s fire burning in your loins, craving connection.
Being a widow is a lonely journey. My husband, Kai, my partner of 26 years, was an RAF Chinook pilot, a giant, Scottish, burly man who gave squeezy bear hugs. The kind of man who made you feel safe just by standing in the room.
Grief comes with a side order of raging hormones
But during his years of service, he’d been exposed to toxic aviation fumes.
What we thought was just a bad cough turned out to be something far worse. Angiosarcoma. Stage 4.
By the time we knew, he had three weeks left to live. Then, in March 2023, aged just 53, he was gone. The funeral was in May. And I was left staring at an empty bed, an empty house, an empty future.
My kids, Macc, aged 14 at the time and Ben, aged 19, had things to do. Macc was working as a groom at a horse yard and Ben was working away, erecting bell tents at festivals around the country.
I had become an empty-nester overnight with no warning.
But here’s the thing they don’t tell you about widowhood – your body doesn’t stop needing touch. Your heart might be shattered, but your skin still craves warmth.
And after months of drowning in grief, I realised I didn’t just miss him. I missed intimacy. I missed connection. I missed feeling loved.
And, let’s talk about the double standard, shall we? Widows and widowers face starkly different judgements when they start dating again.
A widower is often met with sympathy – people assume he “needs looking after”; and encourage him to find companionship, even calling him “brave” for dating again.
A widow, on the other hand, is scrutinised. she’s labelled disrespectful or unfaithful to her late husband’s memory and trolls will say she “didn’t really love him”;.
Society still expects women to be eternal mourners, while men are given permission to heal through love.
But grief isn’t a prison sentence. Falling in love again doesn’t erase the past – it honours it by proving that life, and love, are worth living.
Secret love
As an atheist, I am not bound by religious values. I believe that two consenting adults are within their rights to participate in sex without having to answer to the opinions of anyone else.
But I felt a deep need to keep it secret at first. I couldn’t bear the judgement and for a good reason.
Kelsey Parker, widow of The Wanted’s Tom Parker,
The moment she dared to smile again, the internet lost its mind. As if she should sit in a black veil forever, wailing at the moon.
But here’s the thing: grief and love aren’t mutually exclusive. You don’t stop loving the person you lost. You just learn to carry them with you as you move forward. They no longer exist after all.
So, I did something outrageous (at least, according to the grief police). In June, three months after Kai's death, I downloaded .
My plan was that it was just for hook-ups. No strings, no expectations
Clare Mcnaughton
I chose that one because women make the first move and let’s be real, I wasn’t about to let some random bloke slide into my DMs with a “U up?”; at 2am. No, thank you. This was going to be on my terms.
My plan was that it was just for . No strings, no expectations, just the chance to feel something other than sadness. I told only my closest friends, half-expecting them to stage an intervention. But to my surprise, they got it.
They knew I wasn’t “moving on”; or “replacing”; Kai. I was just existing in the only way I knew how.
At the age of 51, was new to me. Talk about cutting to the chase.
One prospective hook-up asked me how I felt about pleasuring him with my feet. Another went into great detail about how he could contort his body to masturbate and sent me a photo.
Another one opened with ‘what about all the weirdos on dating apps hey...’ and we had an amusing chat before he messaged ‘do you mind if we go move this to WhatsApp so you can watch me pleasure myself'.
I was about to go to Lidl and decided that was still the more enticing prospect.
I was beginning to despair – there was not much in it for me! I also realised that, in my old age, I had standards.
Instant chemistry
Getting some jiggy-jiggy was going to be harder than I expected. After months of failure and not a hook up in sight I was about to throw in the towel.
And then — because life is nothing if not unexpected — something happened.
On 14 December 2023, I matched with Pete. It started the way all modern love stories do — banter, emojis, a discussion on anchovies – yes or no? I am no! His birthday was the day after mine. He loved travelling, paddleboarding and wild swimming. Not once during our chats did he refer to sex.
Was it fast? Probably. Do I care? Not in the slightest
Clare Mcnaughton
Two days later, we met for a coffee, which turned into a hook-up.
As I wasn’t expecting the chemistry to be so immediate I was woefully ill-prepared when it came to personal maintenance. Fortunately, we were both swept up in the moment.
Pete had his own place and over the next few weeks we were at it like teenagers. And, before I knew it, I was falling in love. We became an ‘official' couple in January 2024.
But I was worried about introducing him to my kids.
Early doors I was adamant that we would need to wait months. But six weeks after meeting, when his boxer dog, Maya, had puppies, it was shortcut into my children’s hearts and they were smitten all
round. He moved in with us at the end of June 2024.
So now we are a new blended family dogs, cats and kids too.
Was it fast? Probably. Do I care? Not in the slightest.
Friends and family have taken our new love well – there was odd the comment about it being a bit soon.
Perhaps, unlike Kelsey, we are older and as life gets shorter every day, people are more tolerant – or they are just not saying their real thoughts to my face.
I am so pleased that Kelsey has kickstarted her life again. Life is short and it needs to be snatched and cherished. I hope her happiness marks much needed new beginnings.
Because here’s the truth: my husband would want me to be happy.
Not just existing, not just getting by, but truly, unapologetically happy. And I am.
So, to the trolls, the curtain-twitchers, the people who think there’s a “right”; way to grieve — save your breath. Because I’ve got love, I’ve got happiness and, for the first time in a long time, I’ve got a future again. I am not alone.
