Musings From 18 Months Of Self-Imposed Celibacy
You might be peering at my profile picture, wondering why someone who could double as the heartthrob from “My Girl 2” would willingly sideline themselves from the dating circus for a considerable time.
Let me lay it out for you. In college, I played the field like a kid in a candy store. I wasn’t picky about who shared my bed, and much like a Medium writer fishing for clicks, I believed that more was bound to lead to better.
By some miracle of the universe, I managed to dodge what my mom affectionately called “love bugs” — her cutesy term for venereal diseases. But believe me, it wasn’t for lack of trying. I wasn’t a sex-crazed maniac like Tiger Woods or Charlie Sheen, but if winning 15 majors or landing a syndicated TV show had been on the table, I might’ve been.
Eventually, my carefree flings gave way to some meaningful relationships that, quite frankly, crashed and burned. However, one girlfriend taught me more about sex than I could’ve gleaned from a thousand episodes of “Sex and the City.” Ironically, her lessons led me to endure eighteen long months of mostly self-imposed celibacy.
This extraordinary woman had weathered a tumultuous upbringing and carried the scars of past traumas linked to sex. She wrestled with these…
