"Every man that you have sex with will take a little piece of you."
That's what my aunt told me 12 years ago at the age of 13, when sex first piqued my interest.
I was too young to understand her words on the spiritual level it was intended for and unfortunately, that did not deter me from soon thereafter losing my virginity.
Since losing my virginity, my sex life has taken a leave of absence on several occasions. However, this time around, after a year or so without sex, it feels different. Furthermore, it feels necessary—one might even call it a sex sabbatical, this sexless journey I'm on at the moment. And although it feels good, it most certainly was not a choice and my libido still struggles accepting it at times.
When this began, there was nothing in me that wanted to give up sex, but my soul and body had something else in mind.
Although my last relationship was nearly three years ago, I expended far too much energy on this partnership: mentally, emotionally, and sexually.
My body recognized on a subconscious level how depleted and empty sex was making me and it has since forced me to reject sex, even when that wasn't my initial intention. I say it like it's an allergy because it's almost as if it is. You want it but your body (in some capacity) just won't allow for it – not in a way that is healthy for all parties involved.
Seriously, just ask the stranger I hooked up with and simultaneously began crying on. However, after all this time and one failed hookup (because anything out of the country doesn't count, right?), my love life, or lack thereof, is slowly but surely becoming a little less hazy.
This most recent hookup really forced me to unpack what had been going on with me. I was horny and so it was apparent that I was still interested in sex. But I had also actively stopped dating. And though I found contentment in doing so, I realized that I had not actively stopped desiring the comfort and intimacy that can come with the bae starter kit (if you're lucky).
But, I wasn't willing to keep pushing myself to be sexual when my heart clearly wasn't in it and, by default, forcing unsuspecting strangers to bear the load of my unpacked baggage.
My desires and my actions didn't make sense to me until I gave an attractive nice guy my number. I quickly found that this was all that he had to offer and when I was able to walk away, well, that was more defining than anyone can truly understand. My intuition spoke to me as usual, but the voice was less muffled than in the past when sending me clarity and affirmations that I typically choose to put aside.
This allowed me to finally see that by inwardly and outwardly acknowledging my value, I was not being a bitch or "stuck up"—I was simply loving myself.
For the first time ever, I realized that being nice with more hypothetical potential than actual stock was not enough to make any one man worthy of who I am, where I am, and where I'm headed.
For once, I didn't see this as a challenge to elevate him, investing in a man in exchange for hope, or expelling my energy into a man who had never directly expressed an interest in my doing so, not through his actions or words. The only thing that this guy had to offer me was the full-time caper position and not many moons ago, I would've taken it, but not today – not the woman my subconscious is fighting for me to become. Sis, wasn't having it.
Nonetheless, it was this decision to walk away without second thoughts and guilt from what normally would've felt most comfortable, that allowed me to realize what and why I have been faced with this journey of celibacy. In remaining celibate, it has allowed me to connect with myself in a way that I've never done before:
I've begun to better understand the role I play in my own heartache and what ending the cycle to actually find something meaningful will look like over time as I peace myself back together.
I've finally begun to heal from the men who I've almost allowed to reduce me to nothing, with all the little pieces they've taken over time.
And each day, I'm coming to understand and embrace the journey instead of asking so many questions because I can recognize the growth.
I suppose I finally found a purpose in my drought and it had nothing at all to do with purity in order to appeal to men, but maybe purifying in spite of men and the previous carelessness I held in regard to my own esteem. Furthermore, it had everything to do with understanding, healing, and peace.
Although this journey was accidental, I feel confident that it was intended to help me travel to the root of love, searching within myself before looking to others to provide my soul and body with the nourishment it so badly desires.
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