In case you missed it: Roasted root vegetables are loaded with nutrients, and we’re all trying to eat more of them. Here’s a recipe featuring carrots, parsnips, sweet potato and beets that you’re going to be making on repeat all winter long.

Spice Roasted Root Veggies

Makes : About 5 cups
Total time: 40-45 minutes, including 10 minutes of prep time

Ingredients

• 1 lb carrots, about 5-6 small
• 1 lb parsnips, about 2-3 medium
• 1 lb sweet potato, about 1 large
• ½ lb beets, about 3 medium
• 3 tbsp olive oil
• 1 tbsp honey
• 1 ½ tsp kosher salt
• 1 tsp chili powder, or chili pepper such as Aleppo
• ½ tsp ground coriander
• ½ tsp ground cumin
• ¼ tsp turmeric

Directions

Step 1
Preheat the oven to 400°F. Line one large baking sheet (or two medium) with parchment paper.

Step 2
Trim and scrub vegetables to remove any dirt and rough patches, then chop into 1-inch chunks. In a large bowl, combine chopped vegetables, oil, honey and spices, tossing until vegetables are well-coated.

Step 3
Arrange vegetables in a single layer on a prepared baking sheet. Roast on middle rack of oven, rotating pan halfway through cooking time, until vegetables are tender and edges are golden brown, 30-35 minutes.

Tip: Switch up your veg! Sub in other vegetables like Brussels sprouts, squash, fennel, cauliflower and red onions for any of the vegetables in this recipe.

Laura Jeha is a registered dietitian, nutrition counselor and recipe developer. Find out more at ahealthyappetite.ca.

Next: Why Roasted Root Veggies Are a Winter Nutrition Win

Trigger warning: This excerpt mentions suicide and self-harm.

Two and a half silent years after sustaining the break up, I was still smarting and yearning. He’d never said a word and I let that injure me constantly. Disregard, says Kipling D. Williams, an American psych prof who’s studied the subject extensively, is the ego’s cruellest assailant. He calls ostracism “among the most devastating experiences a person can endure.” Animals who are ostracized don’t survive. Once set adrift by their crew, they lack both the resources to find food and the pack for protection. For humans, exceptionally social creatures whose dependence on others is arguably bigger than anyone else’s, close relationships are equally critical. If our ancestors couldn’t sustain associations with intimates, they perished. No wonder psychology emphasizes the importance of creating and maintaining relationships. “Without friends, no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods,” Aristotle said. “There is something in staying close to men and women, and looking on them, and in the contact and odour of them, that pleases the soul,” said Walt Whitman, 22 centuries later.

In the book he wrote with Erika J. Koch, Emotional Responses to Interpersonal Rejection, Mark Leary considers the consequences of a soul denied that pleasure. If you’ve been left behind, he says, you might suffer sadness, jealousy, isolation, envy, guilt and embarrassment. In the moment, people who’ve been rejected experience anxiety and depression; in the longer term, they internalize low levels of self-esteem and a general lack of well-being. Rejection slows their heart rate. Some try to kill themselves; some succeed. My children and parents, to whom I was deeply connected, kept me from even considering that option.

To the list add aggression, linked to rejection in a 2001 Surgeon General of the US report. Think of school shootings and dismissed employees going postal. Still, the research is clear: Much of the aggression that rejection arouses is pointed inward. Same with disdain. “I was rejected,” we say, the passive participants in our own tragedies. It’s a hell of a posture to take: Just when our ego is at its lowest, we heave up a sack of self-loathing. Rejection does half the damage, says American psychologist and author Guy Winch; we do the rest.

Research also uncovered a connection between social exclusion and reduced intellectual functioning. Multiple studies reveal that our cerebral performance dries up if we think we’re going to be rebuffed. Participants told they would end up alone performed significantly worse on general intelligence tests—were less able to retrieve information from memory and bombed the logic—than those who believed their future would be filled with belonging and meaningful relationships.

Perhaps most significantly, researchers learned that we castoffs feel the pain of it in our muscles and bones as much as our psyches. Scientists confirmed in 2012 that physical and social pain experiences rely on shared neural substrates, in the first study of social exclusion in humans.

They believe that’s so because, a thousand generations of rejection ago, our ancestors’ social attachment systems co-opted the pain system’s siren to prevent the species-ending consequences of social separation. This mingling of our social and physical needs, said American neuroscientist Paul MacLean, helps explain why “a sense of separation is a condition that makes being a mammal so painful.”

—

Christmases had turned painful when my kids’ dad and I split. It was lonely overseeing the season by myself, and I suffered the usual guilt separated parents feel about stealing their family’s easy experience with it. But when I met Sam, from that very first holiday and for six more after, my joy returned.

We didn’t see each other at Christmas, holding out for Boxing Day reunions that kicked off animated week-long holidays to the south. But we were part of each other’s celebrations just the same. We both had traditions of attending Christmas Eve services—once-a-year appearances at respective neighbourhood churches, me before dinner in Toronto, him at midnight in Montreal. Christmas magic could collapse geography and time, so when we lit our candles off our neighbours’ and sang “Silent Night” in the flickering ambience they cast across our programs, we could have been together, our thighs touching on the same pew.

There’s nothing like Christmas Eve. No night’s so crisp or huge or enchanted as the one that delivers the world across into Christmas. Our conversations on these nights were always intimate and effervescent, both of us still fairy-dusted from our church visits and the walks home in the snow after, chatting breathlessly to people we hadn’t spoken to in a year. I’d put Sam on speakerphone so I could wrap presents while we talked. I loved hearing about his Christmas Eves in the cozy church he’d visited since he was a kid. It was within walking distance of both his apartment and his childhood home, where his parents still lived. Years earlier, Sam had stepped up for the resident caretaker, whom the church was mistreating, and he served for a time on its board. Sometimes he’d play at a special occasion there, releasing all his elaborate music into the hallowed rafters. When the little church closed from lack of business, Sam was so sad. I tracked down a brass offering plate from the congregation and got it engraved for him.

After the Christmas Eve service, Sam used to walk a grateful widow home, lending her his arm across the snowbanks, basking in the community of the special night in his beloved city. He would tell me about that, his annual encounter with this woman he’d known since he was young, and I would cut wrapping paper and write tags and feel grateful. “I wish you were here,” I’d say, and he would tell me something like “I am, baby. I want you to feel it.” And I would.

Then I’d tuck the phone under my ear and deliver all the gifts to the tree and drink Santa’s milk and fill the stockings. And all the while Sam would talk to me and make my solitary maternal labours—bloated this night with so much expectation—less solitary. When it was at last all set up for morning, I’d head upstairs. “Look outside now,” I would tell him from my dark bedroom window before we said good night, and Sam and I would peer across the crackling Christmas Eve at each other as though there was no sky between us at all.

I thought about all this on the second Christmas Eve after he left. About the candles and the carols, the widow and the snowbank. His arm. I thought of it while I went through my Christmas rituals in silence, arranging the presents under the tree, tucking oranges and lottery tickets into stockings, writing Santa’s blocky notes of thanks for the cookies. Then I turned out the lights and went up the stairs alone, no one in my ear saying I’d done a good job putting on another Christmas for my children, no one who noticed, no one who knew.

When I looked out the window into the deep magic sky the second Christmas Eve after Sam left, my gaze went on and on, didn’t meet up with anything at all.

—

“My dear little love,” I wrote Sam one afternoon when he’d been quiet for more than two years. “I think it would help me, if your heart and soul are utterly and undeniably convinced that they are done with me, if you would write and tell me so. This silence has been crazy for me.” Elie Wiesel’s comment about the opposite of love being indifference was never far from me in this stillness.

The silent treatment is the most insidious quill in ostracism’s quiver. When someone expecting a door gets a wall, the blow to the ego is tremendous. It generates the special quality of suffering that comes with being erased. Here is soundless rebuke—an ancient tool of psychological punishment—and its power to steal its victims’ identity and voice and value. To send them spinning in squalls of isolation and grief. To make them question not only the relationship they had but the person they are. Here is disregard, and the layer it adds to rejection, the combination confirming that you matter not at all.

Even a fiery argument grants both participants the dignity of voice—there’s a sense of control inside the flinging invective. That’s not the case with the silent treatment, which shuts one party up and down. “Silence,” said George Bernard Shaw, “is the most perfect expression of scorn.” Mark Leary’s theory says self-esteem actually bottoms out not when people believe others despise them, but when they believe others feel neutrally about them. So we feel just as badly about ourselves when people ignore us as when they hate us.

Various academics have taken a run at the subject over the years. One of them, Paul Schrodt, a communications prof from Texas Christian University, reviewed the relationships of 14,000 people. Afterward, he declared the silent treatment “the most common pattern of conflict” they contain. “It does tremendous damage,” he said.

With Meidung, an exercise of shunning practised in the Amish faith, individuals are actively singled out for comprehensive neglect. Practitioners conspire to ignore other humans—refusing to speak with them or eat with them or even acknowledge them. The victims, accused of violating the Ordnung, the church’s unwritten expectations for adherents’ daily living, suffer a “slow death,” said American lawyer Margaret Gruter. The faithful defend Meidung with a biblical prophecy: “And if any man obey not our words by this epistle, note that man, and have no company with him, that he may be ashamed,” says 2 Thessalonians 3:14. Mennonites, Hutterites and Jehovah’s Witnesses also practise forms of shunning.

In 1947, a court in the heart of Ohio’s Amish country heard a case of Meidung. The plaintiff, a 33-year-old Amish farmer named Andrew J. Yoder, sued a bishop and two preachers from his old-order Amish church for $40,000 in damages and a court injunction against a “boycott” he alleged they’d arranged for him. Yoder claimed the church had “mited” him for five years for purchasing a car so he could transport his polio-stricken daughter to medical appointments, a move that contravened church doctrine. The community disregard made him feel like a “whipped dog,” Yoder told the jury at his civil trial. But his opponents were convinced that this man had broken the pact he’d made with God with this acquisition, and that their actions complied with the commandments.

Yoder said he was satisfied with the verdict, which awarded him $5,000, but the payout allegedly did nothing to mitigate the Meidung of this man whose ego had been flattened under the boots of loved ones fleeing him. “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies,” Martin Luther King Jr. said, “but the silence of our friends.”

—

And so I wasn’t alone. Nor were the helpful people who pointed out that if I didn’t write to Sam, I wouldn’t be shunned by Sam. But if I didn’t write to Sam, I wouldn’t be okay. Be quiet, he’d declared with his retreat—but I still had things to say. And I would say them until I didn’t care to anymore. I had no other valve. My head was jammed and I had to unload. It was a perverse delight, this unorthodox exercise of calling to someone who never called back, and I would draw it out, savouring the purpose it gifted my indifferent life for a day or longer while I worked on my note, always anxious, always hopeful. He never said a word. My ego never knew what hit it.

Excerpted from Heartbroken by Laura Pratt. Copyright © 2023 by Laura Pratt. Published by Random House Canada, a division of Penguin Random House Canada Limited. Reproduced by arrangement with the Publisher. All rights reserved.

Next: 20 Breakup Movies That’ll Help You Get Over That Relationship

Communities across the country have Nordic clubs where you can sign up for a lesson and rent equipment to try the sport. Additionally, many downhill resorts—such as SilverStar in B.C., Mont-Tremblant in Quebec and Ski Wentworth in Nova Scotia—have embraced a range of cold-weather pursuits, including snowshoeing, fat-tire snow biking and Nordic skiing. These spots often maintain cross-country trails, offer lessons and rent out Nordic gear.

“Lessons can be extremely helpful,” suggests Kelowna, B.C.-based Nordic coach Jenna Sim. “They provide a platform to give you the confidence for going out on your own.”

Plan a half-day lesson or a short ski for your first outing so you don’t overdo it, says Sim. The rental shop pros will be able to help you size your gear, and your instructor can show you how to put on and take off the boots and skis.

Know the terms

Classic vs. skate: What style of Nordic skiing is right for you?

At cross-country ski clubs, you’ll see trails with a set of tracks (two parallel grooves, hip-width apart) on each side, plus a wide area in the middle that looks like groomed corduroy. The tracks are for the classic style of Nordic skiing, while the part in the middle is for skate skiing. So, what’s the difference?

Classic skiing follows the basic human movement of walking or jogging, where each ski is in its own track and you stride or glide along, one ski at a time, while poling forward with the opposite arm. Many skiers new to the sport opt for this style as it’s more low-key and easy to learn.

Skate skiing involves shifting your weight from one leg to the other in a side-to-side motion, like you do when you’re ice skating (or on a flat cat-track, when alpine skiing). It requires more energy to get going, but skiers can achieve an almost effortless momentum, and it’s a great workout.

Each discipline requires its own specific skis, boots and poles, so it’s a good idea to decide on a style before you invest in gear. However, most Nordic clubs offer both kinds of skiing—classic skiers and skate skiers share the same trails—with a groomed trail in the middle, and tracks for classic on each side.

So then what’s telemark skiing?

Telemark is a niche style of downhill skiing that combines Nordic and alpine, and it’s not for beginners! The skis have edges like downhill skis, but use toe-only bindings like with Nordic skis. This results in turns that look like lunges, where the rear foot keeps balance while the front foot carves the turn.

How to Warm Up and Cool Down

Before you venture out, a little stretching will go a long way. All levels of skiers can benefit from a strength and mobility program, which can be added on to your existing home or gym exercise routine, says Ross McKinnon, a physiotherapist with Kelowna Manual Therapy Centre.

With Nordic skiing, your legs and hips extend through a larger range of motion than when you’re walking, explains McKinnon. Everyday exercises that are good for cross-country ski training include lunges, single squats, balancing on one leg and calf exercises such as heel drops on the stairs (with the knees straight and bent). Since hip and leg flexibility is important, McKinnon also recommends half-kneeling hip flexor stretches and sitting groin stretches before and after skiing.

Hold your stretches for 30 seconds and repeat three times. Exercises such as squats and lunges can be done until you start experiencing a slight fatigue in your muscles—usually after three sets of about 10 to 12 repetitions.

When you hit the trails, start with easier routes and plan to ski the same length of time as you would hike or walk.

“Take care during the first few sessions,” McKinnon adds. “As with any new activity, there can be some normal post-exercise soreness.” An après-ski hot tub soak can also work wonders.

(Related: How to Warm Up Properly Before a Winter Workout and What to Do After)

Here are a few places to give it a try, across Canada:

Where to Ski

British Columbia

Sovereign Lake

Adjacent to SilverStar Mountain Resort near Vernon, the 50 kilometres of Nordic trails here combine with the downhill resort’s 55-kilometre trail system to create the largest regularly groomed network of cross-country ski trails in Canada. sovereignlake.com

Ski Callaghan

Dog-friendly trails make the Callaghan Valley a great choice for families. Find this Nordic-focused resort just south of Whistler. callaghancountry.com

Alberta

Canmore Nordic Centre

More than 65 kilometres of trails combined with on-site rentals and lessons (available through Trail Sports) make this a good choice for trying out Nordic skiing. The centre is located in the Bow Valley, west of Calgary. albertaparks.ca

Manitoba

Windsor Park Nordic Centre

Groomed daily and perfect for beginners, the short easy loops at this Winnipeg facility are a great place to learn. Equipment rentals are on a first-come, first-served basis. windsorparknordic.ca

Ontario

Highlands Nordic

Located north of Toronto near Wasaga Beach, this Niagara escarpment spot rents out classic and skate skis to use on its 30 kilometres of groomed trails. highlandsnordic.ca

Quebec

Mont-Sainte-Anne

Less than an hour from Quebec City, the network of Nordic trails at this ski resort wind through the scenic Laurentian forest. The trails include five heated cabins where skiers can stop for a rest. mont-sainte-anne.com

Newfoundland

Clarenville Nordic Ski Club

The 40 kilometres of trails at this club, located east of the Bay du Nord Wilderness Reserve, have plenty of cozy warm-up huts along the way. clarenvillenordicskiclub.com

Next: The Many Health Benefits of Nordic Skiing

I’ve loved the steep, powdery pitches of downhill skiing for years. But some time before I turned 50, my body started to rebel against the high-impact jostling of black-diamond runs (sore knees, sore hips, a back that kept going out).

So, last winter, my husband and I did what I had once seen as unthinkable: We invested in cross-country gear and ended up spending twice as many days gliding zen-like through the forest than we did chasing fresh tracks at an alpine resort.

At first we poked fun at our newfound Nordic pastime—the fitted, streamlined clothes, the slow pace, the awkwardness of toe-only bindings and the ridiculous downhill snow-plow stance (courtesy of those wildly untethered heels) that made us teeter precariously between staying upright and face-planting on the hard-packed corduroy. But something happened after those first few forays onto winding trails that were gloriously free of other people: We fell in love with the sport.

Being out in nature under a cobalt sky gives us a mental lift during the shortest days of the year, and that’s in addition to the mood boost we get from all that exercise. We don’t have to drive as far from our Kelowna, B.C. home to get to the trails, either, and Nordic doesn’t cost as much as its alpine counterpart.

As it turns out, we aren’t the only ones going all in for downhill skiing’s slower, flatter cousin. Mike Edwards, a manager at West Kelowna skiing club Telemark Nordic, says he noticed a 50-percent bump in membership over the first year of the pandemic, and a nearly 25-percent increase during the second year. It was hard to get our hands on skis, boots and poles last season, too: a perfect storm of supply chain issues meets increased demand.

For many, COVID winters and lockdown gym closures supplied the push they needed to try Nordic skiing. Then, the sport’s many perks won plenty of people over permanently.

Lisa Monforton, a self-described “cross-country ski dabbler,” has grown a lot more serious about the sport over the last few years. She initially took a lesson with a girlfriend, and then started going out regularly to ski in Fish Creek Provincial Park near her home in Calgary.

“During the pandemic I just looked for new things to do in my life, whether it was weaving or baking or learning a new skill,” explains Monforton, who is 61. “And more of my friends are cross-country skiing.” She loves that it’s an aerobic, full-body exercise. It’s easier on her joints, too—particularly a problem knee. “Cross-country skiing doesn’t bother it at all,” she says.

It’s a similar story for Angela Sayers, who broke her patella in April 2020. Her physiotherapist forbade her from hitting the downhill slopes, but gave her the green light for Nordic skiing the following winter. Now, due to the financial and social advantages, Sayers says she doesn’t think she’ll go back.

“What I like about Nordic versus downhill is it’s not this big investment of time and money. It’s free,” says the Calgarian, who just turned 50. “It’s so accessible, it’s so easy. You can take an hour, go skiing and be home, instead of driving all the way to the mountains.”

Last winter she met a friend every Friday morning to catch up and ski either at the one-kilometre Nordic loop in Calgary’s East Village, located downtown, or at a local city golf course with track-set trails (that’s where a grooming machine makes two parallel grooves in the snow for skiers to glide along).

“It’s a good winter alternative to the walk,” Sayers says, adding that she and her friend would sometimes bring a Thermos and turn the outing into a tailgate party—the Nordic version of après ski.

It’s also a sport you can do at any age. Jenna Sim, a cross-country ski coach at Telemark Nordic, loves that she sees everyone from four-year-old girls to 85-year-old women out on the trails. Part of its appeal for the very young—and for the aging and elderly—is that it’s a relatively safe, low-risk activity.

“A lot of times people are nervous about winter sports because they don’t want to fall and get hurt,” explains Sim, who coaches kids ages 11 to 14. “Nordic skiing is great because of the low-impact nature and the speed that you’re going. People feel like they can be in more control because they’re not going as fast, so the risk doesn’t feel as high-consequence.” I fell plenty last winter as a newbie, and I am pleased to report that my knees, hips and lower back have weathered these stumbles just fine.

When Nordic skiers do experience sprains or breaks, they’re usually caused by a fall, says Ross McKinnon, a Kelowna-based physiotherapist who regularly treats sports injuries. Unlike with high-speed alpine crashes, tumbles from Nordic skiing are usually from losing balance on a gentle downhill grade or while going around a corner, or from catching an edge while stepping into or out of tracks.

McKinnon notes that he typically treats far more injuries from downhill skiing and snowboarding than from Nordic. “Cross-country skiing is one of the safest winter sports out there,” he says.

As my technique improves, I’m sure I’ll master the proper way to stop rather than simply—ahem—“sitting down” on intermediate runs.

I’m also hoping the sport’s amazing health benefits will transform me into a super-fit 50-something. After all, Nordic skiing really is the perfect winter workout, and that’s not just my bias speaking. Experts confirm it: Cross-country burns a ton of calories, uses your leg, arm and core muscles and provides that mental health boost so many of us need this time of year.

“Nordic skiing can be one of the most intense, demanding activities you can do,” says John Holash, a professor of health and human performance in the Faculty of Kinesiology at the University of Calgary. “You’re using the muscles of your upper back, your triceps, your shoulders, your deltoids. You have to stabilize with all your core muscles. And then, in addition to that, you’re using all of your hip flexors and lower legs.”

What’s more, some of the people with the highest reported cardiovascular fitness are cross-country skiers, says Holash.

A few years ago, doctors in Canada began prescribing time in nature to help patients manage anxiety and improve their physical and mental health. I’ve certainly found this to be effective, and I plan to keep prescribing myself a weekly cross-country ski excursion as a winter survival strategy for many years to come. Here are some of the other health benefits:

Calories Burned

A 2016 study published in the Journal of Sports Science & Medicine found that Nordic skiing burns more calories in one hour than downhill skiing does in 2.5 hours. “It’s a continuous activity,” explains Holash. “When you’re cross-country skiing, you’re not taking a break while you sit on a chair and go back up the mountain. And the exercise tends to be more of a moderate to heavy intensity.”

Bone Density

Nordic skiing is easier on the joints than running, and it maintains bone density. “With cross-country-skiing, you don’t really have that heel-strike impact like you do with running,” says McKinnon. “You’re weight-bearing, you’re sliding back and forth, so it’s lower impact that way. But it’s also the pull of the muscles on your bones that helps keep them strong.”

Maintaining bone density and muscle mass is especially important for women as they age. “After menopause, our bone density can decrease, and cross-country skiing is a great weight-bearing activity while also being low impact,” says Sim.

Balance and Flexibility

Nordic skiing is great for balance and agility as you age. It keeps you on your toes, literally. “Outside in a natural environment, you’re constantly being exposed to balance issues,” says Holash, noting that the terrain alternates between slick and slushy, steep and flat, or there might be pinecones or debris to avoid on the tracks. “Cross-country skiing also works the flexibility of our body because it goes through a very large range of motion. It’s an activity that promotes flexibility.”

Cold-Weather Endorphins

Many people feel cheerful when they exercise outside in winter, and science can explain why: Being cold during exercise might actually make us happier by stimulating our sympathetic nervous system, which then releases more endorphins. “You go into a cold environment, you’ll get an adrenalin rush,” says Holash.

Anxiety Management

What’s more, the goal-oriented, horizontal eye-scanning movement that accompanies outdoor sports has been shown to reduce activity in the amygdala, which is the brain’s fear centre, says Holash. The motor planning you do outdoors is far more complex than when you’re zoning out on a treadmill or spin bike. “Almost all of your senses are being pushed to a 10, whether it’s visual, auditory, sensation, balance, smell. The brain is getting a massive amount of input that it has to coordinate,” he explains. Simply getting yourself moving outside, with purpose, can help manage feelings of stress and anxiety.

Next: How to Get Started with Cross-Country Skiing

When Will, my partner/lover of 30 years, died suddenly in October 2017 of a hemorrhagic stroke, which occurred the same day that the cardiologist told him he could resume normal activities after a stent operation, I was bereft. First, I thought I was going to fall into a hole and die; then I couldn’t be in groups of people without feeling claustrophobic; then I was angry that he had died and hadn’t seen his cardiologist sooner; and then I missed both physical affection and sex. Will and I had had a very pleasurable love life. What to do?

My friend Margaret, who had been recently widowed after her husband’s death from serious dementia, told me to look for widowers; they were the best. Stay away from divorced men. They are too difficult. She had found an excellent way to find a possible partner. Her current writing project involved interviewing leftists who had been involved in the movement. By this method she had found a very suitable, wonderful man with whom she now lives.

I was not ready for any of this. Will’s family would question what I was doing, and I was sure my daughter and grandchildren would too. I just wanted to be hugged and comforted. I play cello in the UN Symphony Orchestra, and when the young conductor consoled me about Will’s death, I impulsively hugged him, much to his surprise. Masturbation just didn’t satisfy the need to be hugged.

I had known Sebastian O’Toole since moving to Brooklyn from New Orleans when I was 32. In 1975 we were part of the group that started a magazine that is still going strong today. After Will’s death, Sebastian asked me to have dinner with him or to go to the movies. He was a widower and had been married to Betsy, who did artwork for our magazine. She had died 11 years ago and had been my friend. Both Sebastian and I had had unhappy first marriages and happy second marriages. I had also always found him attractive, although we would often argue about politics.

Although being with Sebastian was fun, it did not solve the hugging problem. At six foot four, he is just too tall for me to hug standing up. I had to stand on my tiptoes, and he had to bend down. I longed to hug lying down. And so, I got up my courage and sent him an email about the need for cuddling and snuggling, particularly in my lonely grieving state. Of course, being a man, he interpreted cuddling and snuggling differently from me. His return email was lovely. He said that after Betsy died, he thought having a love life was over for him, that he was too old (he was 87), and did not know how to tell me this, but then he thought about my offer and discovered that he felt very good about it. And so, he invited me to his apartment, made a tasty dinner, and asked me if cuddling and snuggling came before or after dinner. I assured him after dinner. And that he wasn’t too old.

Sexuality is very different from when my partner and I were younger. With Sebastian, I feel very comfortable, safe, with a sense of completion and joy, erotic but in a different way. When men are not so focused on their orgasm, which may or may not happen, there is more time for eroticism and pleasure together and for the woman to get what she needs. There is more stroking and touching, and lovemaking lasts longer. Sebastian’s comment that I have taught him so much about sexuality amuses me—me, a good Catholic virgin when I got married at 22.

When I was younger, I would not have chosen to be with Sebastian. He was too professionally successful. Previously, I had always been with men who were very smart but not that successful, because I wanted space for myself. I still do need space for myself, but Sebastian’s success is not an issue.

My daughter Ragan’s reaction to my relationship with Sebastian was confusing. I don’t think children can imagine their mother having aromantic love relationship, particularly in her seventies (I was 76). Months later she told me that it was her children, my grandchildren, who did not want to meet Sebastian. Will had been their grandfather, and they did not want a substitute grandfather. She had been covering for her children. Ragan said she just wanted me to be happy. She had nothing against seeing Sebastian—she had known Sebastian since she was a little girl attending editorial magazine meetings at the nearby college, where he was a professor, and she remembered him from summer retreats at his farm in the country.

About six months later Ragan did ask Sebastian to dinner. About a week before that, Ragan, my granddaughter, Grace, and I watched the movie To Kill a Mockingbird in preparation to see the play. When Atticus (Gregory Peck) appeared, Ragan said to Grace, “That is what Sebastian looks like.” I giggled and said, “Well he is a bit older, Grace, but he does look like an academic.” The morning after we all had dinner together, Ragan texted me: “Sebastian O’Toole is a lovely man, and he always has been.”

Another concern in older people’s relationships is aging, sickness, and accidents. The December before COVID-19 struck, Sebastian fell down the 19 steps in my Brooklyn brownstone. It had been a wonderful evening: he had attended a UN symphony concert that I had played cello in at the New School. Afterward, we had taken a cab to Brooklyn in a stormy rain, drank wine, talked, and laughed. I don’t know when I had been so happy. In the middle of the night, when he got up to go to the bathroom, Sebastian fell down the 19 steps. I let out a bloodcurdling scream that caused my tenant and her boyfriend to come running up from their apartment to discover Sebastian lying bloodied at the bottom of the stairs and both of us stark naked! Amazingly, Sebastian got up, blood dripping from his head, and walked back up those steps. I think his height and slightly inebriated state may have saved his life. I agonized about calling an ambulance—it was 3:00 a.m. and raining—which made thoughts of the ER less than reassuring. Not to mention that Sebastian refused to go and said he wanted to stay in bed with his arms around me. So, I kept him awake and talking to make sure he didn’t have a concussion and watched as the blood from his head wound finally stopped. Then I waited until morning to call a doctor friend who had admitting privileges at Methodist Hospital. Dr. Fein said I should call an ambulance immediately. He would call the hospital to alert them. Watching the paramedics carry Sebastian back down those 19 steps, strapped securely to a chair, was certainly a relief. Sebastian had two tiny neck fractures and a small brain bleed as a result of his fall and spent a week in the hospital. In addition to Sebastian’s fall, he’s had a heart valve operation and pneumonia during our two years together, and I developed breast cancer, so gray love comes with many bumps and detours. I must say, though, I liked it when Sebastian introduced me to his nurse practitioner as “his sweetie.”

And then there was COVID-19. I probably quarantined more days before I saw Sebastian than I spent with him. If I had never left his apartment in Manhattan, I would not have had to quarantine, but I live in Brooklyn and have family, friends, and a pianist with whom I play my cello. Also, Sebastian could not stay at my house because of the stairs.

The rule for quarantining his daughter rightly insisted upon was 10 days of quarantine followed by a gold-standard COVID test, including quarantining until I got the test results—or 14 days of quarantine with no test. This was because of Sebastian’s precarious health. The first summer of COVID we spent a month together at his farm in western Massachusetts. I quarantined alone for 14 days there. We met only for meals outside. Then we spent the final two weeks physically together. In the fall, we got together in Riverside Park, masked, and bundled up against the cold wind because I hadn’t done my quarantine. After Thanksgiving I quarantined again for only 10 days, but unexpectedly tested positive for COVID with the most reliable test. Although I had no symptoms, I quarantined for another 10 days. I developed no symptoms and was deemed COVID-free by a doctor. Then I spent five days with Sebastian. Thank goodness his daughter insisted on my being tested. My asymptomatic COVID-19 could have infected him. That might have been the end of our relationship.

For months our relationship consisted of emails and phone calls. Every evening we would say we loved each other. Sebastian wished me sweet dreams, and we would send one another music and photos. Sebastian writes funny and very literate emails; they sustained me. Last week we spent five days together after a four-month separation because I had been diagnosed with breast cancer resulting in a lumpectomy and three weeks of radiation. We were both two weeks beyond our second vaccine. Recently, we invited similarly vaccinated friends for dinner and feasted, talked, and all hugged each other. I had been apprehensive, but it felt good. It is reassuring to love and be loved again—unexpected at our ages—but so pleasing.

Foreplay is an integral part of getting it on. It prepares the mind and body for what’s to come and gives you time to get in the mood, leading to more pleasurable sex. Crave more emotional intimacy with your partner? Foreplay can help with that too, so you can have an even better time in the bedroom.

One of the best ways to have great foreplay is by opening up about your fantasies. “That’s how couples keep sex hot for 10, 20, 30, 40 years and beyond,” says Jess O’Reilly, a Toronto-based sexologist and relationship expert. Having discussions about desires gets the mind (and your parts) lubricated, she says. Plus, you’ll learn more of what turns on your partner, which can inspire you to try out new moves.

When you’re done talking, there are a few goodies that can help the pre-show be even better than the main event. Here, we’ve rounded up a selection of sex toys, accessories and products that’ll make your next romp your best one yet.

Good Vibes Only

This is not your typical vibrator. It’s shaped like a tongue and designed to be used on any part of your body (erogenous or not). And it’s endlessly customizable—you can straddle it and grind for solo play, you can add pressure to up the ante on the sensation, and you can use it with a partner. (And in case you’re wondering, find out if  a vibrator can desensitize you.)
We-Vibe Touch X Rechargeable Clitoral Vibrator, $130, lovehoney.ca

Playtime

“Playfulness is so important for relationships,” says O’Reilly. “Life doesn’t have to be that serious; sex doesn’t have to be that serious.” She suggests keeping it fresh and introducing something new, like a toy or game, to your sex life.

Turns out, there’s a reason spanking can make you feel frisky: endorphins released can cause a type of euphoria. Try this holographic rainbow paddle, which is much more fun than a hand and just the thing to get you in a playful and flirty mood.
Cosmo Bondage Holographic Rainbow Paddle, $29, bonjibon.com

Sex games can feel corny—but that’s the point, says O’Reilly. The cheesiness of them can actually make you feel comfortable. “They also help people with communication, and encourages you to set time aside and engage with your partner,” she says.

This board game from Lovehoney is like the adult version of truth or dare: It contains cards that ask players to answer a spicy question or dare them to do something sexual to their partner.
Lovehoney Oh! Fantastic Foreplay Board Game, $40, lovehoney.ca

The Rub Down

Massages offer the opportunity to explore your partner’s body and melt into their touch for a sensual moment. The right massage oil can also elevate the mood with the right aroma—like this one that smells like a ritzy night of strawberries and champagne. From Canadian brand High on Love, this product, which contains hemp seed oil, nourishes the skin and claims to stimulate circulation to boost energy for a bedroom romp.
Sensual Massage Oil, $60, highonlove.ca

This balm is designed to make the clitoris more responsive to touch, increasing your likelihood of the big O. Peppermint and other essential oils are intended to stimulate the nerve endings and promote blood flow for extra sensitivity to encourage an explosive finish.
Lovehoney Bliss Orgasm Balm, $17, lovehoney.ca

Get Boosted

Sex pillows can make it easier for you to reach your G-spot and make tricky positions more comfortable. Plus, they’re invaluable for people with mobility issues—sex pillows allow you to modify your favourite position and take the pressure off of your joints, support your hips and back and allow for a greater range of motion to make sex sexy, not painful.

This pillow from Brooklyn-based company Dame comes with a cotton shell and soft foam interior that provides just the right amount of support and comfort. Bonus: When you’re not using it to get the perfect angle, the pillow seamlessly blends into the rest of your bedroom.
Pillo, US $95, dame.com 

This firm pillow option from Liberator supports two bodies during playtime and comes with a non-slip, easy-to-clean soft velvet cover. The best part: The cushion includes a toy slot that holds your favourite dildo or vibrator in place for hands-free fun.
Liberator BonBon Toy Mount, $150, lovehoney.ca

Frisky Business

A stroker is made to be wrapped around the penis to add extra sensations as you stroke it. This silicone version is easy-to-clean, stretches to fit most sizes and has two different textures for different feelings.
Arcwave Ghost Silicone Reusable Reversible Textured Male Stroker, $25, lovehoney.ca

Tuck this discrete, versatile vibrator between two fingers to add a little something extra to a touch. The toy’s three speeds heighten the experience of using your fingers for pleasure and can be used with a partner or on your own.
Fin by Dame, $115, bonjibon.com

Wet ‘n’ Wild

Even if you’re turned on, your body’s natural lubricant might just not be enough. Sometimes you need a little help.

Lubricants generally fall into two categories: water-based and silicone-based. Water-based lubes are more viscous and rinse away more easily, says O’Reilly. They’re typically recommended for use with a silicone toy to keep it in good shape. Silicone-based lubes are thicker, slicker and last longer during sex. They’re great for shower or bath play, since they don’t rinse away easily. Silicone-based lubes are also recommended for those who are perimenopausal or postmenopausal and are dealing with vaginal dryness because of their long-lasting slickness.

Maude Shine Organic Personal Lubricant, $34, chapters.indigo.ca
Lovehoney Enjoy Water-Based Lubricant, $20, lovehoney.ca
Dame Alu Water-Based Lubricant, $25, chapters.indigo.ca
Uberlube Silicone Lube, $25, bonjibon.com

Take Cover

Condoms from Canadian brand Jems are lubricated with silicone for a frictionless experience. They’re made without potentially harmful ingredients like parabens and paraffins to keep your goods healthy.
Jems Condoms – 12 Pack, $15, jemsforall.com

Skyn condoms are made with the brand’s proprietary non-latex material that feels like there isn’t a condom on, making them ideal for those allergic to latex.
Skyn Original Condoms – 12 count/pack, $14, well.ca

Does size matter? It might when it comes to condoms: Ill-fitting ones can cause slippage, erection loss and discomfort, but the company MyOne is solving that. With 66 different sizes, MyOne claims to have the perfect rubber for everyone—not too tight, saggy or big.
MyOne Perfect Fit Condoms, see website for $18, myonecondoms.co.uk

The Come Down

Yes, post-sex blues (A.K.A post-coital dysphoria) are real. They stem from the rush and sudden comedown of pleasure. Keep those happy hormones by spending a little more intimate time with your partner.

This candle, as its name suggests, will help you relax like it’s Sunday morning. It boasts calming scents including lavender, apricot and sandalwood that smell like breakfast in bed.
Mala Sundays, $38, malathebrand.com

Spend time making your honey feel good by working out their kinks—in their back, that is—with this oil. It’s made without synthetic fragrance (to avoid irritating sensitive skin or causing migraines) and contains only certified organic plant ingredients.
Province Apothecary Sex Oil, $22, provinceapothecary.com

Next: The Absolute Best Sex Position, According to Experts

One of my favorite recipes I learned in my early blogging years is a wildly simple sauté of shredded Brussels sprouts with lemon juice and garlic from the Union Square Cafe. It includes poppy seeds, but I never added them. You’re supposed to cook the sprouts for just a few minutes, so they’re just tender, still green, and somewhat crisp. But let’s say, just for a random example, what if you’re an easily distracted cook? You might dis-cover that Brussels sprouts cooked to a light char—a poetic way of saying I burned them—crispy in some places, a little green in the others (the ones I had not yet burned), are fantastic. I meant to do that! (Hair flip, nail buff, etc.) And here, in this recipe, I really do. I take those Brussels sprouts and heap them on olive-oil-fried, garlic-rubbed toasts, add hazelnuts for crunch, ricotta for richness. Lemon juice goes on at the end, where it’s the brightest. Is this dinner? Do you eat it as a snack as you stand in the kitchen?

That’s between you and your toasts, and I would never want to interfere.

Charred Brussels Sprout Toast with Ricotta

Makes 6 toasts

Ingredients

• Olive oil
• 6 slices (½-inch-thick, medium-sized) sourdough or country bread
• 1 garlic clove, halved Kosher salt
• 1 pound (455 grams) Brussels sprouts, trimmed, halved lengthwise, sliced ⅛ inch thick, or 12 ounces (340 grams) sliced Brussels sprouts
• Freshly ground black pepper 1 medium lemon
• 1 cup (250 grams) whole-milk ricotta
• Red pepper flakes, to taste
• ½ cup (80 grams) hazelnuts, toasted, loose skins removed, coarsely chopped

Directions

Drizzle a large pan lightly with olive oil, and add as many bread slices as fit in one layer. turn the heat to medium, and cook until golden brown and toasted underneath, about 4 minutes. flip, and toast the second side, about 1 minute more, then set toast aside on a plate. repeat with the remaining bread, adding more oil as needed. remove from heat and rub toasts with the halves of the garlic clove, and sprinkle with salt.

Increase the heat to medium/medium-high, and add enough oil to recoat the pan well. Heat the oil until hot, and add the brussels sprouts. season well with salt and freshly ground black pepper, and let them cook undisturbed until well browned underneath, 3 to 5 minutes. flip, and let the second side brown well underneath, 2 to 4 minutes more. stir once or twice, and repeat this browning-and-flipping process until the brussels have charred spots all over. remove from the heat, and squeeze the juice of half your lemon over the top. taste, and season with more salt and pepper if needed.

Spread each slice of bread thickly with ricotta. Heap the ricotta with the charred brussels sprouts. finish with another drizzle of oil, squeeze of lemon juice, salt, and red-pepper flakes, to taste. scatter with hazelnuts.

Excerpted from Smitten Kitchen Keepers: New Classics for Your Forever Files. Copyright © 2022 by Deb Perelman. Photography copyright © 2022 by Deb Perelman. Book Design by Cassandra J. Pappas. Jacket Photography by Deb Perelman. Food Styling by Barret Washburne. Published by Appetite by Random House, a division of Penguin Random House Canada Limited. Reproduced by arrangement with the Publisher. All rights reserved.

Next: Need a New Go-To Dessert Recipe? Enter: Oatmeal Date Shortbread Cookies

In marriage vows they talk about “in sickness and in health,” but when I got married at 21, I felt like that was more theoretical—down the road. Not today, but someday. I felt pretty healthy then, and I had no idea I would later be diagnosed with chronic conditions that would change my life, all after separating from my husband. Talk about a plot twist! Now, dating with disability as a 39-year-old single mom, the phrase has taken on a whole new meaning.

At first, I didn’t understand what was going on with my body. Symptoms built gradually like a rising crescendo, until I was overwhelmingly uncomfortable. Tests gave few answers. I had underlying conditions like migraine, tremor, and asthma that were related, but it took a while to connect the dots. My easy bruising was blamed on my pale complexion. I worried that doctors would blame my weight, so I didn’t press the issue until the pain was unbearable. Finally, I found a doctor who believed me and knew right away what was to blame.

What I can say now is that I have hypermobile Ehlers Danlos syndrome, chronic idiopathic urticaria (hives) and ADHD inattentive type. All together, these conditions can make life a little more complicated—work, parenting and dating included. You can’t tell any of this just by looking at me, but I’m self-conscious just the same.

I bring more to the table than blister packs of medication. I’m also a loving mom to a teenage boy and a successful business owner, and I’m pretty funny. I can’t cook, but my son once said I’m good at making the elevator smell like pizza delivery. I am resilient, innovative and strong. I am proud of my Indigenous cultural heritage and the advocacy work I undertake on behalf of my people. But eventually, when I’m getting to know someone new, I have to explain what my daily life is like: lots of focus on self-care, doctor appointments and listening to my body.

And when you’re living with a degenerative condition, you have to talk about how it might impact a future life together. Osteoarthritis is also something that’s common with my condition, and my joint degenerations will worsen over time. (I’m supposed to be getting regular X-rays to monitor deterioration in my feet and hands.) My symptoms may also increase during and after menopause. Happily ever after, in my case, comes with a lot of question marks and medical terminology.

I know my health challenges don’t define me, but it’s still hard. I know all too well the judgment that can come with admitting or disclosing “imperfect” health, so I really think about who I share what with, and when. Sometimes I feel like it would be better up front, because I don’t want to waste time with someone who isn’t up for the adventure that is being my boyfriend. Other times, I would like to let someone get to know the good, the bad and the hilarious over time, and then choose for themselves.

Handle with care

Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (hEDS) complicates even the simplest show of affection: holding hands can be exciting and scary. My joints pop out because my body makes collagen poorly, and that’s a building block of connective tissue.

Connective tissue is everywhere in the body: your joints, skin, heart, digestive system, internal organs. When the tissues are too stretchy and fragile, it can cause problems. This is why hEDS can affect your blood vessels, cause pre-term labour and make having surgery more complicated. I’ve had joints pop out while I was washing my hands, standing in the shower, walking across the street, trying to eat a sandwich and rolling over in bed. I sometimes feel light-headed, and I had a hard time working in a traditional nine-to-five job, because getting accommodated in the workplace (before I was officially diagnosed) was challenging.

It makes pretty much every aspect of life harder, all because my body is a little too bendy and everything is a little too loose. I have struggled with depression caused by the pain of swelling and dislocations. While we all look for flexibility in a partner, in some cases it can actually be a detriment. “It’s kind of like dating Mrs. Potatohead,” I explain. “Miss, actually.”

I’ve had an online dating profile on and off for years, and I have found a few long-term relationships this way. But more active date nights can be risky for me, and when you live on the west coast, where everyone wants to go hiking and do outdoorsy things, it’s really hard. It might be something to explore with someone I trust, but I don’t want to literally fall apart on a first date. I can’t always walk far because of the dislocations, hiking uneven terrain is stressful, and I am at risk of falling on snow and ice.

When I share why I can’t say yes to these more adventurous invites, sometimes I’m asked what else I can’t do. I get awkward questions about whether my hEDS interferes with my sex life, because potential partners are worried about injuring me. I’m all for being honest, but it does hurt when someone looks at you as if being close or intimate might be a bad thing.

As my disease has progressed over the years, the things I enjoyed most have been ripped away, and I have felt so alone because fitness was also how I connected with friends—not just with dates. The risk of injury meant no more Zumba, no more pole dance, no more hot yoga or spin class. It changed old relationships, and it impacts finding new ones, too.

Itching for connection

My chronic idiopathic urticaria can be a bit of a mystery for others to understand. The hives make me itchy, but my triggers are complex: I can’t just avoid a specific food. It’s exacerbated by stress, fatigue, being too hot or cold, having my skin scratched or wearing anything too tight. My lips swell, my cheeks flush and I feel like they’re burning from the inside. I also feel anxious because I can’t trust my body and its reactions. The most awkward part is how the hives are very noticeable on my chest—it is not the kind of attention I want to draw to my cleavage.

Hives might not seem like a big deal, but the condition means having allergic reactions almost daily, being exhausted from the side effects of antihistamines, waiting and waiting to see an allergist in the public system and feeling very alone struggling against a condition that only affects roughly 1 percent of the population. The daily struggle of it—while advocating to be believed, and to have my discomfort validated—is also maddening. It can randomly resolve on its own, or it can be very resistant to treatment and last for years. Many doctors don’t know much about the condition, and those who weren’t successful in treating it with previous patients tend not to be optimistic.

The treatment for my severe urticaria is a drug called Xolair, which can cost as much as $18,000 a year—almost the same as the rent on my two-bedroom apartment. I’ve been learning the hard way how difficult it can be to get funding for the costs of living with a rare disease. I thought if I could just get through the nine-month wait to see an allergist I would be better in no time, but two months of paperwork later, I’m still trying to get my first dose covered. The manufacturer has a generous patient assistance program, but the remaining balance is still quite high.

Hives suck up your energy, make you uncomfortable in your own skin and can be so unpredictable, which makes planning dates or outings difficult. When I’m in a flare, I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to rest, and I don’t want to be touched. But if you cancel on a date too many times when you’re getting to know someone, they think you’re flaky. Because I can’t control when I’m going to have an allergic reaction, I do the best I can.

In a relationship with distraction

My ADHD—which disproportionately affects people with joint hypermobility—brings its own stigma, because many of its expressions are viewed as moral failings, or qualities you wouldn’t want in a partner. Losing track of time, being disorganized, and forgetting things can suggest that you don’t care about others. The decision to medicate or not has brought its own judgments and “helpful suggestions” from people I’ve dated, like: have I considered a to-do list or a planner? (Thank goodness “Kyle-who-enjoys-hiking-and-the-colour-blue” is here to present an obvious solution to my neurodivergence!) Potential partners assume I’m just not trying hard enough, and it can be a dealbreaker if the person you are dating doesn’t support your treatment plan.

Looking forward, looking back

The reality is that none of us know what our health journey is going to look like. You can think you’re perfectly healthy one day and find out the next day you’re not. We all get old—if we’re lucky. I already know up front what some of my challenges are, though I may end up with new ones. It’s taken me years to understand that while I might be itchy, distracted and literally disjointed sometimes, I am still worthy of love, care and concern.

Sometimes I grieve how easy it used to be, back when I could have active hobbies and would spend 10 hours at the gym every week doing Zumba and spin, and teaching pole dance. Back then, I couldn’t even spell urticaria. I didn’t know that not everyone’s joints pop out, and that not being able to remember things wasn’t just an endearing hot-mess-mom thing. I didn’t really know what was going on with my health, but I had fewer things to be self-conscious about.

I may never get to the “in sickness and in health” marriage vows again, and that’s okay. Whether some nice man decides to take me from Miss to Mrs. Potatohead, I’m going to be just fine, but I’m still hopeful. I’m optimistic that I will find someone who will want to be part of my world, to be my emergency contact—and to share in the pizza deliveries. And, until then, I just have to keep being flexible (because that’s what I do best!).

Next: 5 Sex Tips from Canadians Living with Disabilities

I remember the precise moment I thought my sex life was over. I had just emerged from a walk-in clinic into a piercing sunshine and a bustling lunch crowd, an everyday scene that seemed to mock my pain. I stood on the street in a haze, trying to digest what I had just learned—that the itch I felt was, in fact, not as harmless as I’d hoped.

Well, it had started as an itch—the kind that was all too familiar to me as a woman in my mid-twenties. It was a yeast infection. I was sure of it. What else could it be? My boyfriend of two months and I weren’t using condoms anymore, but only because he’d been tested and was “clean,” he told me.

“We may as well not even have sex if we’re always going to use condoms,” he groaned. Did condoms really make sex that bad for men? I wondered. He asked if I trusted him. Since I wanted to be the type of woman who had a boyfriend she could trust, I said I did, and we stopped using them.

When the itch morphed into a searing pain, impacting my ability to sit, pee or concentrate, I hobbled to a walk-in clinic. Lying on the paper-lined examination table, my legs splayed and the doctor’s gloved hand prodding at my vagina, she told me I didn’t have a yeast infection. I had a “massive outbreak of herpes.” I felt the walls close in on me. “That’s not possible,” I told her, “my boyfriend had recently taken an STI test.”

She explained that genital herpes doesn’t appear on traditional STI tests; only a swab during an outbreak can detect the virus. A blood test could show if you carry the virus, and which strain you have, but it can’t identify where you have it on your body—since many people carry the virus from a childhood cold sore, this isn’t particularly helpful.

I was flabbergasted. How did I not know this? I had so many questions, but the doctor didn’t seem to have time to answer them. I didn’t question her callousness at the time, it was what I thought I deserved for being so reckless that I contracted herpes. She took a swab test to determine which strain I had: HSV1 or HSV2, the former typically causing cold sores around the mouth (which 50-80 percent of people have) but can also be transferred to the genitals through oral sex, and the latter being the more contagious genital variety and the one she predicted I had.

Outside the clinic that August morning, that’s when it hit me: My boyfriend lied to me, and no one else will ever want to have sex with me again.

One of the biggest myths about herpes, according to Dr. Rob Dmytryshyn, a family doctor at Women’s College Hospital, is that it means a partner is cheating. “This infection can stay dormant for a long time,” he says. For instance, he says one of his patients had her first outbreak in her seventies, even though she’d been with the same partner for 50 years. That could be because her partner didn’t have an outbreak until later in their relationship, or she had been protected from antibodies from a childhood cold sore. Another myth is that people always know they have herpes. Due to mild, unnoticed, or misdiagnosed symptoms, many people do not know they have the virus, says Dmytryshyn. The occurrence and severity of an outbreak can depend on many things, including emotional stresses and stresses to the area, including periods, yeast infections, and an uptick in sexual activity.

When I learned this, I was relieved that my boyfriend wasn’t necessarily to blame—but that feeling was short-lived. Just weeks after my diagnosis, he phased himself out of my life. After we broke up, I discovered he had been cheating on me. Years later, I found out he had known he had the virus and had passed it to other unsuspecting women before me. In Canada, it’s a crime not to disclose to a sexual partner that you have an STI that poses a “significant risk of serious bodily harm.” But by the time I discovered he’d lied, it felt impossible to drag it back up again.

One in seven people is infected with genital herpes, and, according to Dmytryshyn, the virus can be different for everyone. Most commonly, he says “it looks like a cold sore.” HSV1, which constitutes the majority of diagnoses both orally and genitally, originated as an oral virus but it doesn’t always present the same way. “Over the last 20-30 years, the majority of genital HSV infections are HSV1,” says Dmytryshyn. This might be because more people are having oral sex than decades ago, though it can be transmitted to and from the genitals, anus, eyes or even other areas of the skin. The differences between the two viruses lie mainly in how they originated and their levels of viral shedding (during which transmission can occur) but otherwise, they present the same way.

The most common symptom of herpes is a cluster of itchy or painful blisters. They typically sprout around the mouth or in the genital region. Other symptoms include a burning sensation when urinating, difficulty urinating, and, for those with HSV-2, flu-like symptoms like fever, chills and achiness. But, herpes generally doesn’t cause further health problems. In fact, some people don’t have any symptoms at all. According to Dmytryshynhe, the only time it presents a medical nuisance is during pregnancy or with immunocompromising conditions like HIV. Unfortunately, HSV and HIV can each exacerbate the contagiousness, symptom frequency and severity of the other.

Contrary to what my walk-in doctor had speculated, my swab had come back positive for HSV1. I was surprised to find that herpes didn’t look like I thought it would. I had pictured the crusty sores seen on friends’ mouths when they were stressed, but a hand mirror between my legs displayed small, razor-thin lesions around my vaginal opening. My first outbreak was considered severe and took a couple of weeks to fully heal. I took Valtrex, a prescription herpes medication that can be used acutely or chronically, to suppress each outbreak, and stopped after the run of the treatment (just a few days). For the next few months, I felt a slight sting of a barely-noticeable lesion at my vaginal opening during the onset of my period.  But within a year, I wasn’t getting any lesions at all and no longer needed the medication. Dmytryshyn says this is a common trajectory; outbreaks after the initial one are significantly less severe and increasingly less frequent.

At the time of my diagnosis, I didn’t know anyone else who had herpes. I felt alone in my suffering. So I did what anyone would do: I Googled. The more blog posts and Reddit threads I came across, where I learned about other people’s experiences with the virus, the less alone I felt. I became more comfortable, opening up to my friends and some family who were all sympathetic and supportive. Some felt compelled to share their own herpes diagnoses as well. I was not alone.

For most people, the hardest part about having herpes is not the physical symptoms of the virus, but the stigma attached to it. Although I felt comfortable telling my friends, it took me eight months to work up the nerve to go on a date, let alone sleep with someone.

When it comes to protection, Dmytryshyn advises that “barrier methods are the best way,” but still not 100 percent effective. Since herpes can be transmitted from areas not covered by condoms, monitoring symptoms is key. That means avoiding having sex when you have an outbreak. It’s possible to shed the virus when you’re asymptomatic, but the likelihood tends to decrease over time—it’s much lower than in the early days of contraction.

When I was ready to date and I met someone, I moved slowly, avoiding sex and delaying the inevitable conversation. By this point, I was no longer having outbreaks but was still afraid of the stigma. When I finally told him, I cried, awaiting disgust and rejection. It didn’t come. Instead, he said, “Thank you for telling me. I still really want to have sex with you.”

To this day, that is the only reaction I’ve ever received—aside from one man who didn’t know what herpes was, and one woman who subsequently admitted that she, too, had HSV1. She and I both teared up at our unexpected kinship. Now, I have a long-term partner, and we no longer use condoms. He is aware of the risks, which we try to mitigate by avoiding sex on the rare occasions I suspect an outbreak.

Since my diagnosis ten years ago, I’ve learned about my physical and emotional resilience, my bravery, and my worth. I‘ve learned I’m not reckless, or dirty, and that even though I contracted the virus under nefarious circumstances, most people are honest and good. I’ve had the best sex of my life as a herpes-positive person, and I’m happy to know I can continue to have much more for decades to come.

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This combines two of my favorite types of cookies: classic tender, buttery, perfect-every-time shortbread cookies, and oatmeal raisin cookies. Honestly, I was just playing around, trying to see how many oats I could stuff into a slice-and-bake shortbread and still keep the cookies delicate and somewhat melting in your mouth. But they came out so good, and disappeared so fast, I had to make them again, and then again. They’re making a good case for becoming our new House Cookie, the kind of moderately sweet, not-too-heavy treat I might even make on a weekday, if asked nicely. They’re easy; you don’t have to plan a whole lot or buy any special ingredients. I used dates when I ran out of raisins, and found that I vastly prefer them here; they’re tender and even more harmonious with butter, brown sugar, and vanilla.

Oatmeal Date Shortbread

Makes 30 to 32 cookies

Ingredients

• 1½ cups (195 grams) all-purpose flour
• 6 tablespoons (80 grams) packed light-brown sugar
• ¼ cup (50 grams) granulated sugar
• 1 teaspoon (3 grams) kosher salt 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 cup (8 ounces or 225 grams) unsalted butter, cold for food processor or stand mixer, room temperature for hand mixer
• 1⅓ cups (130 grams) old-fashioned rolled oats
• 1 cup (140 grams) chopped, pitted dates
• About ½ teaspoon (but, please, just eyeball it) finely grated orange zest

Notes:

• You can make a variation like this: Oatmeal, Date, and White Chocolate shortbread: reduce the dates to ⅔ cup, and add 1 cup (6 ounces, or 170 grams) chopped white chocolate when you add the dates. this is our second-favorite way to make the cookies—delicious, but sweeter and slightly less delicate.
• For a prettier cookie, beat 1 egg until it’s blended and brush it over the cooled cookie log, then roll the log in coarse or turbinado sugar before slicing.

Directions

In a food processor or stand mixer: Combine the flour, sugars, and salt. add the vanilla and cold butter in chunks, and blend (in a food processor) until the mixture is sandy and no chunks remain; or beat (in a stand mixer) until the butter is fully blended into the flour. add the oats, dates, and orange zest, and mix until everything is combined and the dough looks a little clumpy.

With a hand mixer: beat room-temperature butter, sugars, and salt together in a medium-to-large bowl until light and smooth. add vanilla, flour, oats, dates, and orange zest and beat until combined; the mixture will seem crumbly.

Divide the dough in half, and transfer each to a 9-by-13-inch piece of parchment paper. Draw up the sides of the paper over one half of the dough, press the dough from the outside of the paper into a tight log, and then roll the extra paper up around it. repeat with the second half of the dough, forming another log. Chill the logs until they’re firm, about 1 hour in the fridge or 20 minutes in the freezer.

Heat the oven to 350°f (175°C). Unwrap each cookie log, and use the parchment to line a large baking sheet.

Carefully cut each log with a sharp serrated knife into ½-inch slices. if the slices break apart, just squeeze them back together. arrange them on the prepared baking sheet(s). the cookies will barely spread.

Bake them for 12 to 14 minutes, or until the edges are just beginning to get golden brown. Let them cool slightly before transferring the cookies you don’t eat immediately to wire racks to cool.

The dough log can be made ahead and stored, wrapped in plastic, for 1 week in the fridge, or 1 month in the freezer. baked cookies keep in an airtight container for 5 days, or so I’ve heard.

Excerpted from Smitten Kitchen Keepers: New Classics for Your Forever Files. Copyright © 2022 by Deb Perelman. Photography copyright © 2022 by Deb Perelman. Book Design by Cassandra J. Pappas. Jacket Photography by Deb Perelman. Food Styling by Barret Washburne. Published by Appetite by Random House, a division of Penguin Random House Canada Limited. Reproduced by arrangement with the Publisher. All rights reserved.

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