My year of 2014 was the year of celibate. Around one year actually. Probably not what most 22-yearolds decide to do during a year of travelling and studying in a foreign country, in my case Australia. But I did it, still do it – or should I say don’t do it – and the experience has been interesting to say the least.
Hardest thing by far?
Waking up in the night, thinking you’re doing it, only to realise that you are not. In fact, you are all alone in you granny panties.
Best thing by far?
You no longer have to worry about how to escape boys who are a little too eager to find out what is under your skirt. You just say how it is: I am not having sex. At all. Suddenly you are no longer the one escaping, in the flash of flashes they are gone. Which conveniently shows which ones are truly interested in you as a person and which ones are after exchanging bodily fluids.
That intimacy, love and sex are separate things, but they should go together. And sometimes you can be confused about which one of them you actually need and want.
To me, sex has always been something special. I do believe a bond forms between you when you sleep together, and energy definitely transfers between sexual partners. I guess that is why I have not understood having sex with someone you don’t really like. And personally, I am not interested in a lifestyle of a lot of drunken one night stand stuff. I know people say you cannot know if you have not tried it, but male doctors deliver babies without ever pushing out one themselves. You don’t have to do something to know what it is about. And it’s not for me.
A good question to ask yourself is if the sex is what you want? Or is it intimacy? Or even love? Or high-fives from your mates?
Whatever the answer is, it’s important to be aware of what is causing you to act in a certain way, especially if it is not making you truly happy in the long run.
If I am having sex I want to be in love. And this year I knew that I could not fall in love. My heart could not take it. And I had some things to work on with myself, things to figure out. Mainly intimacy issues. And I have made progress. A lot of progress.
I also faced up to the harsh truth about me, love and sex. It was always me. It was my fault that things did not work out. Because I could not love myself. And I could not let someone love me, because I could not love me. I wanted too, but I could not. And I still struggle sometimes. I always have. Because of past things, but mainly because I am different. I think differently, act differently and feel like I am not only born outside the box but on a different planet.
I used to think that I would just wake up one day and be, well, a bit less weird. But I will not. I will always be me. And when I finally admitted it to myself, I realised that it is the thing that people like about me. That I am quirky. That I occasionally live in my own head. That I sometimes am a bit too honest. That I feel things so deeply that people don’t need to tell me what they feel, because I feel it too. That I keep secrets to the grave and love silence. That I don’t do shallow, it bores me. That I am intense and don’t get social norms (because they make no sense). And I will never just snap out of all those things, because those things are me.
This New Year I made a promise. A promise to love myself. With all my quirks, my sensitivity and a brain that rarely sleeps. And I hope that you can do the same. To try to love yourself. No matter how weird and awkward you feel. We are all different, and difference is what makes this world beautiful. Not everyone can see that beauty, but it will still always always be there.