Honoring the Process

For Undo-Ordinary’s fifth issue, UNDO V, we focused on how we interpret our senses and physicality. The following is an excerpt from writer JckDvy’s piece on the struggles and benefits of celibacy as an independent 30-something woman.

UNDO ISSUE V is available now. To purchase, click here. Photos by Jamal Otolorin.

[dropcap size = big]H[/dropcap]ere I am: a single, 30-something year old “dating while celibate” working-mom who is ready to reconcile the disconnect between my mind and heart. It finally dawned on me that I’ve been doing this all wrong. I wasn’t honoring the process of love. I wasn’t dating, I was “situating.” Dating was always such a scary term for me, and the thought of not having someone to share the bed with seemed unnatural. It wasn’t about the love, I just needed the synchronicity of breaths to lull me to sleep at night.

So many of my girlfriends were spending so many nights alone on their couches with their male cats, and I was just happy to have someone around. Wow, that reads back horribly. And that’s exactly my point. I thought I was above the process. I wasn’t dating with any kind of perspective. I was just sampling goods at the market, but not committing to a purchase. I didn’t know who I wanted, or what I was looking for from a partner.

So far, my “dating while celibate” experience has been interesting. Every single day I wake up ready to abandon celibacy and get back to my hot, fun normal life. Not to say that sex is what made my life exciting. Honestly, I don’t miss the actual sex or intimacy, but the creative part of my being is a little lost without the sexual inspiration. Perhaps that has been the problem… I’ve hidden behind the character I’ve created and used it as an excuse for why I love the way that I do. I justi ed the purposeful mystery. The emotional dissent. I polarized myself to my own self, creating so freely at my lovers’ expense. The sex was as confusing as it was exciting; there was always some angle, some desire to crack me open. The sex was a trap to soften my guard, the pillow talk held my truest confessions. Then the next day there was some aftermath, some misunderstanding of who I am and what I feel because of some elusive blog post or heart shattering quote on my twitter feed. The one thing I chose to hide behind: my heart shield, my ego— it turned on me. I turned on my own self. Why the duality? Why so much armor? Was I afraid that I would lose some part of my creative being? Had it really taken me this long to understand the ne line between openness and transparency?