LA ✈️ UK & Back to PA.

7/24/16

I’ll just come right out and say it: this celibacy journey is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. Not only have I been abstaining from sexual intercourse, I’ve focused a lot of my energy into trying to catapult my professional career to the next level. Working 50+ hours a week combined with a “no-sex” diet equals a lot of cheesecake and emotional eating. Going to the gym is satisfying in the moment once I muster up the energy to finally get there. I won’t kid myself; I still felt the urges to express a “bad girl” factor, so the gym and clean eating seemed like a lot of “good girl” all at once. I needed to make love to cheesecake. A lot of cheesecaking has been going on right now.

Throwing myself into work hasn’t been completely horrible, definitely stressful but not horrible. I’ve taken on a multitude of projects in attempts to keep me occupied, gained new clients for my company, traveled to LA for a half vacation half business trip, and managed to meet a British Gent in between. Sometimes I don’t realize all of the things that I actually do until I visually see them in writing. In a matter of two months, I did a bucket list of things that some people spend their lifetime trying to do. This is where I insert the smallest pat on my back and remember to be grateful for all the feats I experience and overcome in such a sort time.

With all the traveling, dating and overwhelming feelings that I would’ve normally concealed in sex, I’m handling head-on in celibacy. This is no walk in the park or “hee-hee, ha ha” situation. Everyday feels like another day that my patience is running low and getting weary. I want sex. Good sex. Memorable sex. Sex that will lead to something real with someone just as real. 

I’ll know I’ve completely lost it when I start grinding my teeth down in my sleep. Chain dating hasn’t made anything easier either. I end up wondering if every guy is thee guy worthy enough to have sex with, so you can imagine how things in my mind may escalate quickly and I end up yet again, heartbroken and making out with cheesecake.

British Gent, I can’t even consider him much of a gentleman. Again not horrible, but there’s always that notion of not settling. Call me picky, but I tried to imagine settling and of course in my mind we were a great episode of “Pleasantville”. In real life, he was standoffish with little to no desire for commitment. Obviously, there were signs he displayed that I tried to overlook. He always wanted to chat via Skype but never wanted to make eye contact. I even noticed in many of his pictures, he didn’t make contact with the camera and if he did he was wearing sunglasses. Call me crazy, but I took this as a sign of someone with commitment issues. He won’t even commit to the viewfinder on the camera for goodness sakes.

The way we met was a modern day Pretty Woman scene (minus the prostitution of course): “We met while he was out of town on a business trip…”. That was the beginning of the story, however the way I scripted the end was far from the way it actually happened. Thankfully, I managed to get out of the situation without sexual intercourse. (You can sarcastically insert, “Yay you” here with a bunch of eye rolls). I’ll completely understand.

He wasn’t the only one I dated without giving away the cookies, just the only one I really wanted to attempt something serious with, and the furthest international zip code. He was like something you order off EBay or Instagram: You know there’s risk involved but you’re willing to take it anyway.

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