Something to Celebrate: 3 Months of Celibacy
- Lisa Camille Robinson
- Jan 9, 2017
- 5 min read
I am popping the champagne...
No... I haven't gotten engaged or a promotion at work (not yet, anyways;) But unlike any romantic relationship I’ve had in the past 8 years, my celibacy and I finally have reached an anniversary worthy of mention. Three months!!
Toast to us!
I know it might not seem like much, but 90 days of walking through the valley of temptation and hitting a milestone with my chastity belt still in tact is a phenomenal feat.
So here's to honouring the commitment I made to myself.
Here's to the discipline of saying "no", when it would have felt so good to say "yes".
What's kept me on the straight and narrow? - The hawk-eye focus on my goal; the reasons why I chose to be celibate in the first place. Seven and a half years into trekking the mountains and valleys of the dating world, the weariness brought on by the rugged terrain forced me to stop, sit and take a breather. When I took my bearings, I realised that I was nowhere closer to the committed loving relationship that taunted me on the horizon, like a mirage.
The fact that I was now in my mid-thirties and still single brought me to the proverbial fork in road. I felt I had two choices:
one was to keep on the familiar and well-trod trail of treating sex with some measure of casualness. The other path, the road less traveled indeed, was overgrown and misty, fertilised by deliberate abstinence. The intention was to build richer relationships with men, beyond the physical.
At the time I made the decision, I had just emerged from yet another distasteful casual encounter, making the less popular option actually quite appealing. But the real trigger was that I had also come into possession of some kind of a map for this unfamiliar terrain. I had been introduced to "The Wait” by Meagan Good and Devon Franklin, a book by a modern couple who had chosen to be celibate until their wedding day.
While the "wedding day" commitment did not resonate with me, a lot of what they said about celibacy did. It felt like the needed balm on the open wounds left by my dating battles. I liked the idea that a period of celibacy could facilitate a range of personal benefits such as:
a kind of cleansing of the emotional baggage that I had accumulated over the years
a time-out to re-assess and re-set parameters around whom I allowed into my life
the means to better filter suitors – separating those who were more interested in sex than me as a person
improving my relationship with God, through a substantial complement of reflection and prayer
providing the space to get clarity on what I really wanted in a partner.
Besides, what did I have to lose?
I had already tried everything else. So I made the commitment to be celibate for one year and here I am three months in.
So far the path has been rewarding but challenging. The good bit is that it does make me think more about who I get in involved with and how I go about dating. I end up saying “no” more than I did before.
I’m saying “no” to the temptation of my hot ex who has an open door policy when it comes to my being in his bed. But I know we don’t share the same values and he doesn't treat me in a way that makes me feel seen.
I’m saying “no” to the young guy in his twenties, who meets me on the dance-floor and wants to take me 'back to his place' after 45 minutes.
I’m saying “no” to Tinder and its empty distraction.
In short, I’m saying “no” to encounters where sex, rather than my value as a person and as a woman, is the prime focus.
I had an interesting encounter recently that elucidated just that point.
I had been out with a group of girlfriends at a happening bar in the City, where I met a fine older man who turned out to be visiting from overseas. There was a mutual attraction and lots of flirting. After spending some time together he offered for me to come spend the weekend with him in Melbourne, the next stop on his quick tour of Oz. I hesitated, since I was well aware of what the expectations would be. But I did like him a lot and considered the invite.
Before any travel arrangements were made, I told him that I was celibate. His initial reaction was more positive than I had feared. He was disappointed, but we had a mature two hour-long conversation about our relationship to sex, our dating pasts, values and where our potential relationship might lead. At the end, he said he was still interested in us spending time together but we would check in with each other the next day. Buoyed by that positive conversation and the lightness of having come clean about my situation, the next day I felt confident that I did want to see him in Melbourne and let him know that.
He responded singing a different tune, that the new ‘restrictions’ had changed his desire for us to see each other again. Since sex was not part of the package, he was no longer interested.
That stung. Rejection always does.
But I was also proud of myself for sticking to my guns and having that difficult and awkward conversation. I put my truth ahead of going after a fleeting romance. I was delighted that my celibacy had done its job as a filter. His decision revealed who he was, his values and priorities. I had been saved from getting invested in someone who was not a match.
YAAY!!
In the process of that experience I became more clear about what it would look like to meet a man who places the higher value on my company, my spirit and my intelligence. Somebody who is intentionally looking to invest in a relationship with depth and substance.
There is the argument that sex and the process of building a solid relationship based on mutual values are not mutually exclusive. That might be true for some, but my personal experience is that it's more of a distraction from building real intimacy in a relationship.
I am not claiming that celibacy is the end all solution to the myriad of challenges of dating in your thirties and finding your mate. I am saying that it feels right for me at this time. I am going to keep on this path - finish what I started and see what other treasures it might reveal.
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