On Voluntary Celibacy
It will be 69 days this Thursday the 14th of November.
69 days of no sixty-nine.
69 days of no sex of any kind (except the occasional rub out and if you really want to count the time my period got triggered and blood gushed out everywhere upon penetration and we immediately stopped, but I do not want to count that or even remember it so let’s just not).
We hear the term ‘incels,’ thrown around a lot these days. An incel is someone who is involuntarily celibate as in they want to have sex but they have such shitty personalities that no one wants to have sex with them. The fact of the matter is that these people should be called involuntarily-abstinent because people who are celibate are typically choosing to abstain from sex for a higher spiritual purpose, whereas when one is abstinent they’re usually strictly avoiding sex for any or whatever reason (or for involuntary reasons aka being insecure and annoying).
So, for the last two-ish months I have been for (the most part) voluntarily celibate.
In a way you could say that I’m doing it for God… or better yet, not doing it for God. If you look at God as the interconnection of all things and I as one of the parts of those things, amen, namaste, hallelujah.
Why, I’m sure you’re wondering, did this woman who has run a sex blog for the past year+, who clearly has a super high sex drive, and pretty much gets dick (and pussy) thrown her way every day, GIVE IT ALL UP FOR GOD (god being the interconnection of all things and her self being one of those things, god=her, etc…) ????
Giving It Up Accidentally On Purpose
Well, it wasn’t just one thing and it wasn’t all entirely on purpose.
Perhaps you could say I was over-saturated with sex. And honestly, no matter how much you like something, you can certainly over-do anything.
Also, I was losing myself, in the real world and online.
As you may recall from many blogs ago, I accidentally fell in love with a sociopath. I then spent the last 10+ months going to therapy (twice a week) to overcome my terrible habit of dating terrible people. Of course, I couldn’t leave a learning opportunity unfulfilled when a sexy con-artist walked into my life RIGHT after I finally had my ‘ah-ha-moment’ of dude v. man clarity. That “relationship” lasted a month–turns out therapy is actually working and the Red Flag Dudes go out the door at a much speedier pace now.
To top it off, the final straw of it all–I fucked a republican and he ended up fucking me in ways that I am currently still not ready to go into (ways that really have nothing to do with the fact that he is a republican — only that I should have known it was going to be a piss-poor situation… pun may have been intended there).
Online wasn’t much better. I started this blog as an opportunity to express my truth. I wanted to dive into topics on politics, health, sexuality, body positivity etc. but as with any sort of capitalistic endeavor you see what gets the most hits, the most likes, and you roll with that. At some point, instead of talking about whatever was on my mind at the time I ended up shaping it to get the most traffic. But getting ‘the most traffic’ was never one of my main goals. The main goal was connection to others through self-expression.
I cannot go without speaking for a moment about the energy-exchange that occurs through social media. Our interactions online impact us in real life even if many people want to pretend that there’s some sort of barrier between the two (there is not). Though I am often writing about sex-positive topics it often felt that many men believed that I specifically wanted to have sex with them and not only did I want to, that they were entitled to have that experience with me because they took a second to DM me some ridiculous message.
Here are examples of the last few I received:
- “Can I have nudes”
- “I got a question”
- “Are white guys allowed to fuck you too..??”
- “My dick is19,cm good??”
- “Hi”. . . .( 4 days later) –> “?????”
- “I love porn and you?”
I understand my line of work breeds this kind of stuff but it’s still exhausting, it causes burn out just reading them, and it makes me want to throw my phone in the creek.
Find out what I’ve been up to instead of the sex in my latest video:
After the sociopath and the con-artist, and the republican, and the strangers from the internet I was feeling really quite over it all. My high sex drive did a 180 and buried itself under ground. I thought something was really wrong with me.
I went to Planned Parenthood.
Something was wrong with me.
Actually, several things were wrong with me.
I’m not going to go into details, suffice to say they were all treatable things, treatable with antibiotics and no sex.
Then my pap came back.
After that, I had a pretty standard mental freak out followed by a physical biopsy.
Another 7+ days no sex.
Not that I even wanted it.
I had started to call my vagina, ‘The Cave of Nightmares,’ because everything that followed fucking that republican was like a series of bad dreams confined to a warm dark hole deep inside of me.
All of that time away from casual sex made me realize how much I didn’t really care for it anymore. It served its purpose at the time, it was fun, it was distracting, it was always a story of sorts, but I was/am over it.
I didn’t want a Cave of Nightmares. I wanted a Secret Space of Splendor or a Hole of Holy Heaven or just like a regular functioning NORMAL vaginal area.
I got it. The biopsy came back normal. Thank the Goddess. But all of the above nonsense has helped me realign my relationship goals and my relationship with my body.
So, I have made a vow to myself.
The next person who gets the opportunity to explore my Pocket of Paradise will be someone who matters. It will be with someone that I share a deeper connection with; it will have meaning and romance and passion and green flags and magic and mystery and safety. We will create a foundation of friendship first, it will be rooted in love and the desire to propel each other into better versions of ourselves while accepting each other for the core of who we are.
Everything else is a bore.
I’d rather have no sex than boring sex (though I’d still eat bad pizza as opposed to no pizza at all).