It’s funny, I thought I’d be climbing the walls by now but I’m not. I think the longer one lives without sex, the easier sex becomes to live without .

Of course, it’s only been 3.5 months.

Also, of course, I’m not the one dating me. He’s been a terrific sport about the situation, and I hope that he doesn’t start resenting me for my decision.

It’s not like I’m living the life of a cloistered nun. We’ve been able to keep each other happy without getting naked.

You know, not doing it has actually been fun. I’m convinced it has added depth to our relationship. We’re very intimate, often creatively so.

His kisses make my heart race.

* * *

Life without “doing it” is infinitely less complicated. No worries of pregnancy, no worries about STDs (ironically, MS Word’s spell checker wants me to change that to “studs”), no worries about whether my undies are up to par.

It has also given a new dimension to my athletic training. Most of my sweat has been expelled on the road, rather than between the sheets.

I figure that once I *do* get naked with someone, my body will be so fabulous it will have been well worth waiting to see. 🙂

* * *

I’m not saying I don’t have my moments of weakness. I’m really attracted to him and sometimes I get ahead of myself. But the one time we ended up going a bit further than expected, guilt pangs hit my gut within hours. That night, I had a whopper nightmare that I was pregnant and looking for an abortionist (which is weird, because I personally would never choose abortion unless my own life was in danger, though I support the right of other women to make a different decision).

So, nightmares and guilt pains have been a good deterrent. I’ve also gotten a great deal of strength from the Celibate FAQ, which is a much more entertaining document than it’s name might lead you to believe.

Celibacy. Try it. You might like it!