Reluctantly, I’ve been “abstinent” for almost 2 years, (it will be 2 years in June). Though I love the Lord, it hasn’t been my intention to wait for marriage or even this long. The first year was a breeze. Previously, I’ve always gone extended periods of time without sex; 9 months here, 1 year there, because I only engage when I’m connected to, trust and feel safe enough with the person I’m with. When it ends (because it always does) I take a look at myself, the man, the situation and reassess what went wrong (even though I always know) before I take another lengthy hiatus from lovemaking for a while.
But this time was different. Despite not leaving the house nearly the whole of 2024 and then flying to Bangkok in the first quarter of 2025, I’d hoped to be found by my person by now. I anticipated the first year, I did not, however, anticipate the second. And the closer I get to the 2 yr anniversary of the last time I trusted and cared for someone enough to use my body (and mouth) to express that, the deeper I crave the experience again. The whole of the experience, not just the penetration. And to be honest, I crave the penetration the least. What I yearn for the most, above all else is the intimacy. The unspoken comfort amongst lovers; the heavy breathing; the fingers that dance and grip; the hushed tones and whispers; the sharing of breath; the heat; both the control and the lack thereof; the shudders; the dampness and warmth of enmeshed skin; the passion that creates sweat and the overwhelm of emotions that create tears; hands that search the covers for you in the middle of the night to pull you closer. I could go on. But I feel I’ve painted this picture enough. I’d hoped to be found by someone I could trust enough to feel with in this way, but the someone has yet to be identified.
As you know (and you should) sex is easy to get. There’s apps for it, there’s places for it, it’s for sale etc etc etc. The issue isn’t finding someone to “scratch” the (physical) “itch” because in my case, the itching is for the man in his entirety and the intimacy that we nurture. The craving is for the trust, the experience, the passion, our fondness for one another. Now let me stop here and say that I am no saint and was once a young, hot girl on the illustrious Texas Southern University campus having a time, you understand me? In the words of Auntie Monique, “I wasn’t no hoe but I had my share” I wasn’t and I did. But the more I matured, the more sex began to take on a different meaning. Before my heart was softened, sex became the only way for me to express my vulnerability – willingly or unwillingly. In a past relationship, there were times when something I’d suppressed knowingly or unknowingly would burst through me in the form of tears during intimacy. It became sacred- well it always was but I hadn’t always treated it that way. Now and in recent years, Not just anyone can see me like this, in my rarest, rawest form. Not when I present as a firm, responsible, contained woman while standing up, preserving the sea of woman that I am for more personal times, people, settings and of course, laying down. To witness me bare my body and heart is a privilege and The meshing of bodies and spirits is anything but casual so I treat it as such. This entails casting aside any man that doesn’t share my sentiments and isn’t willing to put in the effort to earn my sensitive physical expression of fondness for them.
In summation, reader, I have 3 words for you: it’s not easy. These past 2 years have shown me why women settle, why they say yes when an “absolutely not” really is the more appropriate response. I understand now the fragility that overcomes you when the solitude begins to eat away at your once formidable core. I understand the quiet consideration of a man you are well aware isn’t good for you but could offer you the passion you crave, even if only temporarily. I know what it is to cringe at the idea of entertaining a man you know will mishandle you the moment your bodies separate, and even worse, to reconcile with the fact that it probably won’t even take that long. I am familiar with the starvation that comes from not feeling another’s touch – inside or outside – for too long. While the love and respect I have for myself puts things into perspective and makes me highly selective, it doesn’t shield me from desire. I’m still only a woman. One that longs to be grabbed by searching hands under the covers late at night and enmeshed by the skin of another.
