In my 10+ years of sexual activeness, I’ve had many different experiences.
If you know me at all, then I suppose it goes without saying that these experiences have occurred in the company of a variety of consenting adults. But just in case you don’t know me, allow me to elaborate: I might have been a tad bit slutty at times.
Sorry, Mom. Anyways…
I’m the first to admit it. The stories of my sexual exploits have entertained the masses for years. I even wrote a column in college called “Champaign Sex on Beer Money.” I was voted “Horniest Girl” in my sorority. In some circles, my oral abilities are considered legendary. In a way, these things make me proud. Not because it indicates that I’ve gotten around, thankyouverymuch, but because it shows that I’m comfortable with the choices I have made. And up until this point, I have been.
But now it’s time to take a step back from the stuff that’s essentially made me who I am for as long as I can remember. It’s time to clear my head and cleanse my sexual palate. It’s time to figure out who Allie really is when she’s not bumping drunken uglies at 3am on a Sunday morning.
It’s time for me to be celibate. For three whole months.
Tomorrow. Perhaps I should go out tonight.
As for this blog, in case you’re wondering why I decided to write about such a personal decision (um, since when is anything I do personal?) the reasons are threefold:
1. Writing is my passion, and it has been since before I had ever discovered my sexuality. So part of getting back to Allie is getting back to what Allie loves.
2. I thought you might find this premise entertaining. At the very least, you doubt I can pull it off. Uh yeah, me too. And aside from that, if absolutely nothing else, this public declaration of my intent forces me to be accountable.
3. If I’m not flirting or fucking, then really, what the hell else am I supposed to do with my free time every night?
So there you have it. Three months. That’s probably the longest I’ve gone without sex since I started having sex. In fact, I know it is. But what’s three months, really? Just 90 days of no physical contact with members of the opposite sex (okay fine, people in general) aside from hugging or the requisite “hi-how-are-ya?” cheek kiss that Jewish people seem to have perfected. I can still go out, at least until further notice, because I’m not sure how easy this is going to be once alcohol enters the mix. Although, in my personal experience, “easy” and “alcohol” seem to go hand in hand. Ba-dum-dum. Thank you, I’ll be here all quarter.
What the hell did I just sign up for? I guess we’ll find out together…but, more importantly, I’m also going to find out alone.
Here goes nothing. Literally.