It's been over 3 months since I’ve touched or been touched by another human being. And now with record-breaking virus surges, I’m wondering if it could be another three. Or 4. But that’s ok. I’m ok. Because I have...my bedtime routine. Yes, my bedtime routine has been my one stop, curbside pick-up shop for intimacy and human connection, albeit my own. The secret’s out my horny, social distanced friends: getting ready for bed is the new getting some.
The bedtime routine begins anywhere between 3pm and 5:15pm. I close my bedroom door, light candles (flameless cause I’m quarantining in the attic at my parent’s house in the suburbs) and put on my Spotify Bedtime Routine Mix. Part 1 is my absolute favorite of the whole process as it involves a full-length mirror and an ‘impromptu’ striptease that I rehearse every morning in the shower very carefully. The first song on the mix is Gold Dust Woman so trust me it’s hot.
I dance and take off my clothes until about minute 1:18 in the song, at which point no matter where I am in the choreography, I stop to touch the reflection of my face in the mirror. I do this for the entire length of the chorus. After Stevie ‘picks up the pieces and goes home’ I dramatically collapse onto my bed, writhing my body for as long as it takes to feel something.
Roughly forty-five minutes later, things continue with a very intricate exfoliating ceremony. It involves none of the expected tools of exfoliating—no pumice stones or rice enzyme powders—it’s just me rubbing up against a bookshelf asking myself “Babe, why are you so good to me?”
(Note to reader: If dominant/submissive role plays aren’t your thing, skip to the oral paragraph below.)
Things get a little kinky in part 2 of my bedtime routine. Let’s just say I’m a bad girl, who likes to say “Avee-no!” to dry skin. If I was a good girl who made it on time for all her Zoom meetings that day, I massage my lotion into my legs in long, deep, tenderizing strokes. But, uh-oh. Today I accidentally slept through the virtual birthday cake for Dick ‘Refuses-to-go-by-Richard’ in Finance. Now my lavender lotion must be spanked on as punishment.
On to oral.
I have to charge my electric toothbrush mid-brush ever since brushing my teeth turned into a 10+ minute dental dance, of which I devote the previously recommended two minutes entirely to my tongue. I’m also pretty certain I scrubbed every layer of enamel off my teeth in a failed attempt to climax by brushing.
I was never a fan of water picks, but in COVID times I have 2. When I hold them at just the right angle it kinda feels like the sloppy make-out session before a drunken threesome. It’s nice, however, I’m considering buying a third so we can just double date instead.
After the brushing of the teeth comes the brushing of my hair. I brush my hair with the seriousness of a Juliet about to poison herself for dear, Romeo. I stare at myself in the mirror as I complete each full, 10-15 second stroke. It takes an hour but it’s worth it. I smile when I’m able to run my fingers through my knotless head of hair as I finish another bottle of wine from a New Jersey vineyard I’ve never visited. “Tomasello’s Daffodil White, this do I drink to thee!”
Cleansing and moisturizing my face is my battle cry. I’ve never had to Lipsync for My Life before but I imagine it’s quite similar. There’s beats. There’s pauses. I throw a kiki. Everything I ever learned in a soap commercial is put to the test.
It starts as most romances do with a cotton ball soaked in toner. I’m usually not a fan of PDA, but I don’t mind it here. I drag the cotton ball in seven long strokes down my face, saying my name each time as I do. I run a finger over my eyebrows and ask myself, “Baby, why are you so cute?”
Once that is complete, the curtain rises for the finale and star of the COVID-bedtime routine: the night cream. Previously, her swan song consisted of a dab. Perhaps a dollop if I was feeling wild. I mean at close to $20 for a 1.7 oz jar, she was not one to use in excess. But in this new touchless, sexless world, the night cream flows like a river. I scoop her up with 4 fingers and spread her on like war paint. I hum deeply as I rub her in my skin and imagine our life together.
With the face moisturizing officially complete, I look back in the mirror and once again run my fingers down my reflection’s face and neck. I have completely and fully given myself over to the bedtime routine. I give my reflection a kiss and hug myself tightly.
It is time for bed, baby.