Not long after, I decided to try dating again after an 11-year break. Technology had changed so much, and I was curious to see what it was like to go from websites with clunky messaging systems to smartphone apps requiring just the swipe of a finger. Yet the premise remained the same: We were browsing a human library, judging the books by their covers.

I decided my only expectation would be to meet new people. I had no desire to find a long-term partner. I wanted to have fun and I wanted attention — male, sexual attention, which had been missing since our son was born.

Soon enough I connected with a man, and our communication quickly turned sexual, despite my saying I wasn’t interested in virtual sex.

Jens said he lived in Norway, had been separated for six months, traveled a lot for work and was in my area every two months or so. He was here right now, in fact, and he wanted to meet. But I wasn’t available, and he had to fly out.

We stayed in touch, and soon photos and lascivious flirtations were streaming back and forth. He told me I was beautiful, attractive, desirable — things I hadn’t heard in years. It didn’t matter that we were typically 4,000 miles apart; the distance and the anticipation worked in tandem to magnify the desire.

I often would hear from him around dinnertime, which was his bedtime. More than once I found myself texting racy thoughts while putting a pot of pasta on the stove. His thing about visiting every two months became a joke to us as the two months stretched to three, then four. Finally, he sent a text saying he would be visiting in a week.