The "Joys" of Being Single and Celibate: Day 1

For the first time in 4 years, I am single. Truly, seriously (most likely [hopefully] long-termly) single.

Since I confessed to and subsequently dated Darren C* in my senior year of high school, I have not gone more than maybe about a few months (if that) in-between relationships or (at least) relations with one boy. I could chart the calendar of my life with their names as the months; Darren, Johnny, Neil, Michael. Maybe it has to do with subconscious abandonment issues rooted when my parents left me in another country at the age of 2, or my own sexual trauma, or the fact that I live in a state largely populated with Hispanic men who have no idea what they want in their lives, let alone if it’s me. In any case, I am single.

And it’s very new…and very awkward. But, surprisingly not in a bad way.

I find myself missing my relationships. Some days, I miss the boyfriends themselves…until I remember why things didn’t work with them and then I realize that I’m actually missing the bits and pieces of the relationships instead; the stolen public kisses, the hand-holding, the nose nuzzling, the way my legs would tangle with theirs in bed.

And the sex. Lord, I can’t forget the sex, it’s kind of the point of this whole thing. Considering that it’s only been two months since I’ve become single, I do miss it a lot. Like me missing the bits and pieces of the relationships, it’s not so much about the guys as it is with the simple act itself: losing myself completely to the pure pleasure and joy of being fucked senseless.

Despite the absolute happiness sex gives me (and it’s a lot) I’d have to say that I miss the little things more than the sex itself; largely because it’s the little things that made me melt in the first place, and slightly because as fun as my sexual experiences were, none of them could ever get me off.

         So…I’m going to be celibate for the upcoming 2011 year. I know; it'd be a lot funnier if I was a whore in some capacity. Unfortunately, I'm just a girl who enjoys a good roll in the sack, or car, or tub, or...well, you get the idea. My saving grace was that I never slept around; excessive Catholic guilt has sufficiently prevented me from becoming a harlot. Whenever I was having relations with someone, it was always with a boyfriend during a "break" before we got back together in a matter of days. Since I'm single a bit shy of the new year, I figure I might as well get a head-start now. Now, it’s not as though I’m disgustingly busted that I have to justify this sex-free span of time.

         I’m a young, attractive wiseass with tig ‘ol bitties. Throw in a fair dose of alcohol, fair amount of effort, skimpy clothing and put aside a chunk of my own standards, and I’m pretty certain that I could rake in decent-looking fuckers (Note that I’m putting emphasis on bringing in men of some level of substance since straight men, particular the busted and desperate, by definition and nature, will fuck just about anything with a tight pussy). Then, why am I choosing not to? Well, aside from a particularly nasty trauma I endured from one of my past relationships, I realized that I’ve never spent a long period of time since graduating high school simply being on my own. There’d always been someone on the side or sharing center stage with me; I’ve never had a scrolling marquee with just my name in bright lights.

          

         Granted, sex with just myself isn’t likely to be as fun, but hell if I don’t go to sleep feeling nice and…soft. ;)

Haha. So…I’m going to be sex-free for the next year. By that standard, I’ll be free to fuck around a year before the world is going to end. Huzzah[?] It just struck me that this is sounding a lot like the beginning of Eat, Pray, Love, which sucks, because the book made me want to slap someone. So no, I don’t plan on leaving the country in search of happiness or my purpose in life, I just want to avoid meaningless sex…or worse, sex that means something that I’m nowhere near emotionally or mentally capable of handling. 

So why bother doing all this when I really don’t have to?

Well, for starters, I'm not delusional. I’m quite aware that simply being sex-deprived doesn’t guarantee that I’ll manage to regain the peace of mind that has eluded me in the past two years since a certain particular incident where I lost a bit of my sanity and emotional stability. If anything, not having someone to help me get to my happy place will likely make me a little bit edgy. But…seeing as how all the guys I’ve slept with have as much luck as getting me off as I do growing male genitalia, I think I’ll live. Somehow, someway, I’ll live. Haha!

So…here I go. 398 days of celibacy. There's bound to be more stuff to do than have sex right? Right... ;)