Remember those old Superbowl commercials talking to the players on the winning team:
Announcer: You just won the SuperBowl, what are you going to do now?
Winner: I’m going to Disneyland!
Well, this is what happened to me, although Disneyland was not the first thing on my agenda.
Announcer: You just completed 6 months of abstinence, what are you going to do now?
Me: I’m going to go F*** someone!
It’s true. As I mentioned before, at about 4 months, I was golden. Nothing could get me off track now, I was tempted by not even the hottest shirtless guy. Not even when I was out drinking with friends. I replaced my late night booty call with late night pizza. Everything was going perfectly. Until he came along. My yoga instructor threw me a curve ball. Sure, he had the most perfect body in the world. Sure, I was attracted to him and tempted by him. But no more than I should have been by anyone else at my studio. There are plenty of men to choose from at my studio. But not one of them phased me the entire 6 months until him. He came into my studio one day, back from his trip, grabbed my heart out of my chest and put it in his pocket. And never gave it back. I wanted him so bad, and that feeling turned into an extraordinary sexual desire I couldn’t ignore.
But, as the weeks went on, I realized I couldn’t have him. It would eff up my 2 year practice, which is the only thing that kept me sane during my abstinence period. I owed it to my practice not to abandon it for a night in the sack after everything it gave to me. So I practiced extra hard for a month and a half after I met him there. I drained my body of everything so as to dampen the sexual urges it was experiencing. Until one day I got sick and had a minor surgery. It was not a huge deal, except for the fact that I wasn’t allowed to practice any more. Cold turkey. My body ached and I lost my mind. My sexual urges surfaced, enough with a gaping wound that was trying to heal. I didn’t give a crap anymore, my primal sexual urges were back in control and wanted to jump anyone that was in my immediate vicinity. I had to restrain myself, and I only did this with disgust and shame about an open wound. I made sure not to go out and drink because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself. So I went into miserable, agonizing hiding….like a drug addict in recovery. Again, making me realize once again how much of an addiction I actually had and the shocking discovery that I had replaced this addiction with another, albeit healthier, but addiction just the same: yoga.
The week before my 6 months, my wound healed and the bandage came off. The first thing I did was go back to yoga, and was pleased to see my love there waiting for me. But a few days of yoga and then seeing him again didn’t pacify my yearning. I took a date with a guy I had given my number to back when I didn’t care about sex. He had been consistently checking up with me every week since then, and was desperate to see me. I was not attracted to him at all, but it didn’t really matter. I went over to his house and let my urges take over. I almost didn’t make it to 6 months.
Right about the time when he decided it was a good idea to put on a condom, I woke up. What was I doing? I was out of control, I didn’t even like this guy and I was about to waste all of my work on him. To all the guys reading this: I am so sorry for being “one of those girls”, but that kind of thinking has led me to sleep with way too many guys I wasn’t even attracted to. No connection sex was my specialty, and I didn’t want to continue this way any more. So, I left him blue balled and ran out.
The next week I hit my 6 months and the day after someone new walked into my life.
…to be continued…