What I Learned From Not Having Sex for A Year

From the title, you probably are thinking one of three things: what the hell is wrong with you, continue to be pure, or why is she spilling so much information in the first place. If you are a frequent reader of my blog, you already know that I am very transparent about my feelings, desires, and insecurities whether the public wants to hear them or not. This subject is no different though I have been internally debating the relevance of such conservation. But the confession has been hard to ignore as I stare in disbelief at my Period Tracker. One year. No sex.

At first it was a shock. How did a year pass me by without so much as a craving. Then realization of the fact that my schedule had been an array of early mornings, long nights, and busy weekends filled with work on top of a dwindling social life due to that odd and inconvenient schedule. Blame it on adulthood or my obsession with being financially independent but my nether regions have been gravely neglected. A whole year without even the fainest brush of other person’s lips against mine. How strange.

But just as soon as my dry spell hits my consciousness, a wave of hopeless lust threw me into confusion. There were no deep set plans to offset my sexual encounters like celibacy so the urge to get busy was still there by a way of default. But even when I tried to end the milestone, it completely backfired in my face. So much for old flames. It got me thinking: there must have been a cause to this reaction somewhere and there had to be explanations for my behavior. So here I am working out my complex equations for you to read: what I think I learned from not having sex for a year.


As children in sex-ed, the word sex was described as intimacy between two people. So it is only natural for us to believe that any contact with another human being as viewed as intimate. And unfortunately for me, I have believed in that ideal since I first gave my innocence away in my early 20s. If you think about it, there is nothing more intimate than two people being naked together in a space for 8-10 minutes essentially connected through two body parts and fluids. Or so I thought. Not having sex has allowed me to witness my past sexual encounters in a new and interesting light, an act that I don’t think I was ready for when my mind was blinded by the light (suppresses singing…) or should I say dick.

When looking back, I have realized that in those lingering moments of passion, I have never felt so alone and distant from my partners even when I am by myself in my apartment. The “I need to go wash you off of me” trip to the bathroom or the rolling over to the over side of bed had left me cold and contemplating wondering when the intimacy was supposed to happen.  It wasn’t until I was laying next to someone in my bed fully clothed barely touching when I noticed that I was sharing intimacy. It was strange and unexpected but I felt safe and open in a way I never felt when my legs were spread wide. Just the simple act of a conversation sparked a new craving I hadn’t known I was desperate for.  It took me a minute and a few solid attempts at pushing someone away to acknowledge the feeling. Now, it’s something that I can’t live without. Intimacy, at it’s root, is simply being open and vulnerable with other person, being unafraid to show who you are and knowing that they will or try to accept you. A simple act of kindness and understanding with a particular person that leads to a connection


We, as women, too often feel like we have to have sex with someone in order to feel a deeper connection when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I don’t know how many hours I have spent with a person trying to find that string that will tie us together and in the end use sex as a means to deepen the bond. And it basically goes nowhere. Then you are stuck with stories that don’t matter and promises that will never occur because the desire has been met and ultimately you figure out your fate through the mysterious disappearance for your former lover. He must have gone vogue, he’s totally off the grid…

When you’re not having sex, you seek a different level of connection. I have found myself listening to my inner voice more consciously when it isn’t being drowned in the repetitive “I need to feel your body” monologue that it is used to. You start to be more active in conversation, easily giving your opinion and speaking of dreams without speculating whether this will hinder your chances at him putting that weight on you. In a sense, you are just testing the waters with someone to see if they can hold your attention and vice versa. If there is nothing there, it is less of a chore to walk away when passion is involved, in my opinion. Hey, this is awkward or we’re just not seeing eye to eye; let’s tap out. Done. But when you do find that someone that you can’t seem to stop talking to or want to be around, it’s comforting to know that you are building that connection without worrying if it’s just the sex that’s keeping them around. Those little butterflies you feel during anticipation aren’t bad either…


Am I the only one that remembers their first crush? Of course not because that shit was epic for all of us! It was the first time you actually cared about someone other than ourselves and tried to everything in your power to get them to notice you (yes, hiding around the corner secretly stalking them and willing them to talk to you through mind control counts!). But more important than that was the sudden feelings you had when that person was near: anxiety,  anticipation, longing, frustration, not knowing where to put your hands. All bundled up into a short description: butterflies. But it seems as we have gotten older, we have traded in butterflies for pure lust. That anxiety of just being near someone has now translated to how long before I jump into your pants.

I often question my friends “where is the love” when they talk about their new prospects. We are so eager to relay how much we want to kiss, lick ,and suck but it’s never about just being with someone or the anticipation of their presence. Or we having sex with people we don’t like. Or at worst, we try to force the butterflies in hopes of the real thing. It’s this constant rotation of interest, screw, and goodbye that ultimately led me to zero penetration. When you’re not having sex or even open to the possibility of it, you start to pick up on those non-butterflies. Being around people I have previously slept is so intriguing because of the lack of butterflies. Whether it’s because the flame has died or the simple fact that it was too hype to begin with is quite funny to me. It allows me to replay our “special” moments and bring new light to the situation. Unfortunately, most of those cases fell in the “pretending” phase. Now, I’m more aware of my deep set need: butterflies and a side of epic. Just thinking about those future moments has me giggling in my alone times…


When you’re not having sex or even chancing a dating life, you spend most of your time alone. Something that has never been an absolute issue of mine given that I am a single child and proven loner. Every holiday season, it goes without mentioning that you be questioned into public annoyance as to why you are single and “you’re such a great catch” talk when all you want to do is get more mash. And then they decide to drop a bomb on you with “don’t you get lonely?” Truthfully, yes. Human interaction is necessary for a healthy adult even when you have two lovingly adorable cats to play with. But I just decided to spend my lonely period with a good book or a couple of friends that my schedule doesn’t permit me to see too often. “But what about that other loneliness? The one that only a man can fill?” This is usually when I check out of the conversation…

First, let me say this: a man will never complete you, only push you to be an improved version of yourself.  Furthermore, alone does not equate lonely. With that out of the way, it is no different when it comes to alone time. Sure, we would like to have a partner to share our grievances about aggravating moments with but I believe the time that you spend alone before that person comes is equally as important. During that period, not only do you have time to figure yourself out but build a sense of autonomy that you can fall back on whether you are in a relationship or not; e.g. having a life. Yes, I want to get lost in someone’s eyes once for a while but I also want to go on embarrassing trips with my best friend without that person.

I’m not sure if I will continue this cycle or break the fast in the near future but I know in this moment that there will be more layers to my sex life. Not barriers or rules, but more awakening toward what enters me: my body and soul.

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5 Comment

  1. I like. Very introspective. It’s funny because my experience was similar. I was having too much sex [I have since grown to understand meaningless sex differently], and expecting something to come from all of my sexual experiences. My celibacy period was by circumstance, not from a lack of trying. It made me bitter. What I have learned from periods of celibacy and promiscuity is that you must know “what it is”, and be honest with yourself about what you want it to be, going into the act to come out unscathed. Both parties need to actually. I also learned that while frowned upon in society, meaningless sex does indeed have a necessary place. Mr./ Mrs. Right Now does not have to be the bad person. I changed my perception of my reality from what others expected of me, to what I expect of myself and everything suddenly became brighter.

    1. I agree completely. I used to wonder why people just randomly had sex before I discovered my urges and had my own situations. Now that I know what I want from people instantly without rose colored glasses, it’s easier to figure out the fucks from the loves.

  2. Love it, this was a great post! It also makes me reevaluate my own sex life. Though I am married I feel that sometimes I don’t get enough…but now I realize that I need to start thinking more in quality and intimacy than in the sexual encounter itself.

    1. Sex is definitely important, don’t get me wrong, but intimacy feels great after the lust passed.

  3. Saved as a favorite, I really like your blog!

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