DAY 37: I Want It, I Need It, I Gotta Have It...?

Okay. It's day 37, and I'll admit, I've hit a bit of a lull. A wall. A frustration station, if you catch my drift. In other words, I've been DYING to have sex. It doesn't help that I work on weekends with a man who ignites my vagina with enough electricity and power that it could probably run most small countries. Which just further adds to the heap of "take me home and let's just devour each other- oh wait..." tension buildup. So, to combat this, I've pulled out my most successful weapon against sex-urges: namely, the hypothetical reality. For example: "how would sex REALLY go down?" It's easy to imagine hot, passionate, steamy, sweaty, yummy, bodies grinding and licking-and-touching-for-hours sex, yes. (And if it wasn't before, I'm sure it is now.) But how would I feel, outside of the absolute physical pleasure? How would I feel after, once the actual act is finished? It's easy. I'd feel like shit. Let's say I folded my hand, called up Night Before Guy, and made my way to his warm bed and warmer body. Okay, and that guarantees some instant gratification, sure. Maybe instant gratification several times in a row. But then what? Then...nothing. Nothing will have changed. He's not going to feel differently towards me, or have transformed into a man I can form a real relationship with. I'm not going to have changed into a woman ready for a relationship, or a woman okay with "just sex", because it's convenient for him, and feels AMAZING for both of us. We'd likely continue down that path of casual sex anyway, because the sex is so fantastic. And no matter how good of friends we may be, or how much we genuinely care for each other, that's all it will be. Because neither of us has grown, nor will we ever grow. And there's only one road to see for obstructed eyes. It's a pattern that will keep us stunted, and hide all other paths from view. And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is the weapon of "hypothetical reality". The best in my arsenal of armory I've stored up for this challenge.

Yet this time, even knowing that, I still feel glum, pent-up, and in dire need of cock. But why? Aside from the obvious, and knowing the realities, why am I going CRAZY lately, with carnal desire? Why am I still sticking this out to the end? Instead of, say, getting someone to stick it to me? Because, my dearest darlings, I am a disaster.

I realized this while asking myself the aforementioned question ever since these urges reached a new peak this week. Yeah, there is yet another reason I had sex as often as I did. So, I'm 28, haven't traveled barely anywhere I want to, haven't published a book, much less anything else (yet!), haven't made it as an opera singer, or any kind of singer. My whole life people have told me how talented I am, how much limitless potential I have, how I am going places. And yet...I haven't. Hopefully it's in the near future, lord knows I can't do bottle service as a senior citizen. (No matter how dim the club lights are or how many greens I eat, there's no hiding grandma.) The connection between "I want sex" and "what am I DOING with my life?!" happened these past few days, when I started questioning this sudden "Sex. NOW." mindset. Last week, my sister invited me to go Belize with her next month. She asked me to look into it, what I might want to do there, etc. and I started to do research and pretty much had an anxiety attack. Because FUCK. It made me realize how many places I haven't been, and want to go to. I was overwhelmed with how little I've lived in my 28 years, outside of my crazy stories and man history. And wouldn't you know it, through that anxiety came the immediate urge to bang someone, anyone. So you see? While some people hide from their shit through emotional eating, through drinking or drugs, or some other kind of release, I use sex. It does provide a fulfillment of sorts, whether physical or the acquiring of a hilarious new story. It's a way to feel alive and wanted and like I'm doing something with myself. But it's also the reason I've felt so empty these past few years, and been driven to this point where I burned out. Because it's a high that isn't real. It's not what I REALLY desire. Ultimately I'm too afraid to go after what I really want and need. I'm pushing my real dreams out of sight and mind, covering it up with and substituting in with, sex. I've been so scared to dream, too scared to let my dreams come to fruition. For various reasons, depending on the dream. It's easy to never be in the moment when you have to face that you aren't living to your potential, you aren't doing all the thing you want to do, you aren't going the places you want to go. It's easy to make excuses- too expensive, can't take off work because I need the money, too much to plan, I don't know if I'm ready/really want to go, etc. It's easy to use sex as an escape because it's easy to get, and satisfying, albeit a false, cheap way to achieve that. Guys, I'm fucking terrified that I'm fucking up and not living a life that's a gift. I'm not quite sure how to break out of this place. Is not having sex the way? I don't know, but I'm scared to death I'm stuck in this rut and won't ever get out. Whenever I finally look up and get in the moment, what I see and feel makes me want to cry because I feel like I'm wasting and have wasted everything, doing nothing. I guess knowing this, acknowledging it and wanting to change is the first step. But how does one get past fear? Past being overwhelmed by how much of my life has been, really, bullshit? I guess I've had a lot of personal issues that I was dealing with the past few years, and that was worth the work, but how much longer can I keep making excuses? There's always a reason why not, when will I finally get past that? What exactly am I so terrified of?

DAY 27: For What It's Worth

After a post-shift breakfast with coworkers, I was all bundled up and ready to bike around before heading home. I had been cruising around, taking pictures of lower Manhattan, since the early morning sky had such a pretty light. It was fucking cold, and after I realized I had been riding for about an hour, I decided to head back to Brooklyn. I was biking through the City Hall grounds and the sun was rising. All of the buildings were awash with it's gold, and as I was approaching the intersection across from the Brooklyn Bridge bike path entrance, I found myself completely overwhelmed. Not from the beauty of it, not from the freezing wind blasting my face, not from a tired booty from five days of crazy butt workouts. Not even from the stupendous view that is New York City. No, it came from me realizing I was completely and unadulterated-ly IN the moment. It was like every sense was operating on high. I've never felt and seen and heard and smelled with such clarity and at such a heightened level, at the same time. It was CRAZY. I imagine it's what a drug high must feel like, and if it is, I totally get why people get addicted. It's scary, intense, and incredible, all at once. Now, I don't know if because I grew up in a fast-paced city, or because I get caught up in my own deep thoughts, or because I daydream often, that I don't ever find myself FULLY in the moment. Maybe it's because I'm on the grind, or because I have security issues, but...I can name only a handful of times when it's happened. And those few times, I had to consciously work and concentrate to be in the moment. This time...was the opposite. So it happened, right, and then when I realized it was happening, I almost burst into tears. Listen, I get emotional sometimes, but this wasn't out of sadness or anger or even happiness. It was just such an amazing and beautiful thing. I was breathing and seeing and feeling and knowing, in every cell of my body and every thought in my brain, that I was utterly in the world, and it was all around me. It kind of blew me away. I felt both tiny and huge at the same time. I was inhaling that cold morning air and actually realizing I was doing it. I was seeing the heart-achingly gorgeous view in front me and fully understanding I was seeing it. This time I didn't have to make myself appreciate all this, and force myself to notice things. The only thinking I had to do was to realize it was happening, and to embrace it. It's a hard thing, to let myself go like that. I hold, and have held, onto so much fear in my life that it doesn't surprise me that moments like this don't come my way all that often. As I mentally talked myself through it, to keep letting go and just let myself be invoked by the feeling, it became almost too much. I had to take a moment and breathe, but then I let myself go with it. I let that feeling kind of spread out and fill me up inside, and smiled like a motherfucker when I hit that bridge. I was NOT smiling much as I huffed and puffed in the final leg of my ride home, 45 minutes later (the last half mile to my crib is all solid, steep uphill) but even so. I kept thinking about that moment and how high I felt in it. I was remembering all the beautiful things I saw and photographed that morning, how I had savored the incredible visual and architectural feast that is Manhattan. And that led me to start thinking about how so many of us want to have experiences like that- but to experience and share them with someone they love.

I dunno man, the last thing on my mind during any of that was, "Awww, this is SO GORGEOUS but I'm SO ALONE. Sigh. If only someone was here to enjoy it with me..." First of all: fuuuuck that. Second of all: let me tell you, being that happy with being by myself is a real testament to how far I've come. In the past, being on my own, seeing sights alone, shopping alone, would've made me feel like a fucking loser. When I think back on all the times I did things on my own growing up, without friends, without family, (which was basically always) it would make me feel really sad. It made me feel like I didn't have anyone, in any sense of the word. I can't say I'm an introvert, but I'm maybe a little too awkward to be a real extrovert. So while I didn't mind doing things alone, what always bothered me was how shitty I'd feel during and after. I didn't like that feeling, but instead of taking steps to fix it (I was young so didn't really know how to do that yet), I suppressed everything. I've finally owned up and addressed these things in recent weeks, and I thought I was doing all right dealing with them. But I didn't realize just how many strides I've made. Today, being by myself and feeling the world and everything in it, I didn't feel the least bit sad that I was hanging out with just me. I certainly didn't feel like I was missing out on / lacking something by not having someone there. It was cool, unexpected, and super encouraging to see, and really be aware, that in real life I've moved past that issue.

Then I started thinking about why people fear being alone. Do they really want someone to share things with, live a life with, or as humans are we just terrified of being on our own? Why is that such a bad thing? What's really soooo much better about having a partner, a mate, a boyfriend/girlfriend/whatever the fuck it is, than just being with you and you? Is it that most of us never reach a point where we ask ourselves these questions? Do we fear the answers? Are most of us even capable enough to start a journey of figuring ourselves out? Maybe that's why we are so driven to have a partner- for some people, relationships are a way to hide from themselves, their issues. (I did that plenty, but with sex. Oh my god, so fun. But at a price.) Or maybe we constantly seek a partner because we substitute that love in place of the love we lack for ourselves. Or we chase partnerships and the idea of relationships and love because being with someone comes to us more naturally- whether because it's our human instinct, or because it's beat into our brains through film and storybooks. I mean, I guess I'm wondering all these things because for me, once I recognized I had issues...yo, I wanted to deal with them. The last thing I thought of as a solution was a freaking boyfriend. It's been years of this self-work, mind you. It wasn't easy, and it was scary as hell, and oftentimes I begrudgingly made myself keep digging, keep asking, keep working. But ultimately, don't we all want to improve, exceed our own expectations of ourselves? Did we let the idea of romantic love take the place of that? Do we now think the only way we can grow, be the best versions of ourselves, experience life at a heightened level, is by being in love? Look, I've been in love before, I recognize how powerful it can be. But at the same time, even at my happiest moments with a man I loved, who loved me, I can't say it ever came even close to feeling how high, euphoric, and electric I felt this morning. Love is great, totally has it's merits, but it's such a diluted carbon-copy of today's experience. I've often thought love is really a drug; you feel happy and float-y and drunk; you see the world through a beautiful filter. But that's just it- a filter. I don't think love makes us more aware and more in touch with life and reality; I think it makes us walk and stumble through the world as if in a trance. You're in this kind of bubble, and it's a beautiful fucking bubble, but I don't feel like I see clearer or live fuller when I'm in love. It's more like my system has been shot up with "man magic". I'm high, but the only reason life looks and feels beautiful is because I've been altered by love's effects. Maybe that's why breakups are so hard- they're a crash. An emotional AND physical crash. All of the sudden, that pretty haze has lifted and reality sharpens once again.

Could that also why we crave "having someone?" To chase that high? Or do most of us first experience it at too young an age to know it's attainable on one's own? I know with my last heartbreak, during the relationship itself I felt great. I had finally been able to open myself to a man and let him in- and still be and maintain my true self throughout. If anything, I felt overcoming that personal struggle had strengthened me. After it ended, for weeks I lived in constant fear that that strength would disappear and I'd be weak again, since the only reason I felt it was due to this dude. Friends assured me that now that I had felt that invincibility, I wouldn't just lose it. Now that I knew what it was, I was more than able to keep it and have it, even without that man in my life anymore. I never liked the idea of a guy giving me or making me anything. So while that high may be why most people chase relationships, and "need" to be in one, it is the exact reason I avoid relationships and DON't want to be in one. I don't like relationships because it's too easy to become too dependent on them (again, like a drug. Says the non-drug user...) That's why I tend to kept a wall up- it prevents anyone from getting in / making me vulnerable, but it also prevents any guy from making me feel too good, emotionally. When it's not something I can make myself feel, or give to myself, tangible or otherwise, I'm wayyy wary of it and avoid it. But pain is really unavoidable, no matter how much we try to protect ourselves. Pain is really the only way to grow and become stronger, better versions of ourselves, by ourselves. Maybe that's also why people are afraid of being alone. Because in those moments, whether just a casual Tuesday or after a heartbreak, you're forced to see yourself, be with yourself, know and own yourself. Which can be pretty damn terrifying if you don't like yourself! But it's so important to not only know ourselves, but be utterly and brutally honest about who and what we are and want.

So why don't more people have journeys to discover all this, and just bounce from partner to partner? I'm not sure; I can only answer that for myself. But I can say, just like getting to the gym or going for a run, the hardest part is walking out the door. Once you hit that pavement, you just fly. And just like a rough, intense workout, there are going to be hard moments, moments you need to stop, take a breather, stop and try again later. Man, sometimes, you just won't want to do it. Because lets be real: pain and work and pushing ourselves can SUCK. But it's fucking worth it. The endorphin rush of a solid run has nothing on the euphoria you feel when you start to grow and know yourself. I hope to keep having moments like I did, paused before that gorgeous bridge today. I hope I continue to be able to give that gift to myself, to grow and let go of my fears and hang-ups. Maybe you don't need to give up sex for 100 days to get it, but whatever your obstacle(s) is (are), I can promise what's waiting on the other side is worth the work.

DAY 16: An Important Question, Importantly Answered

The number one question people asked me when I began this was, "Um. Why are you doing this to yourself?" But now that over a month has passed, it's, "Do you miss it?" It's an interesting question. I mean, fuck yeah I miss it! Particularly when I think about "it" with very specific people (ahem, Night Before Guy. Or how it would be with my celeb crush, the one and only Joel Kinnaman. God DAYUM. Man is FINE.) But do I miss the act itself, generally speaking? I'm still not quite sure. I've been exploring why I was so promiscuous to begin with, and realized that I had developed a bad habit of using sex to cover up things about myself. Its been making me question how much of a sexual person I really am, or if I ever really was. I reflected tonight for a bit on my history with boys, all the way back to my earliest memories of liking them. Like Adam Goldberg, my kindergarten boyfriend. He was a long-eyelashed stud, reminiscent of a young Kevin Arnold. When he moved to Long Island at the end of that year, I ended it. (I was way advanced for a 5-year old, knowing that long distance doesn't work.) I had an endless string of boyfriends after that, well at least until fourth grade when Awkward Ugly Elena happened. So yeah, I'm pretty sure I was always destined to be promiscuous, given my voracious appetite for, and interest in, men. But after taking this hiatus, I still can't tell if I really miss sex. Or, if it's more that I miss the simplicity of it, and the ease it gave me to hide from personal things I didn't want to address.

When it comes to men I'm interested in, good lord is it easy to be sexual. I've never been afraid of that part of myself; in fact, it always felt comfortable. I was never shy about letting it show. But it's easy to wear those pants and wear them proudly when you don't want to wear anything else you own. Now that I'm more comfortable in the rest of my personality wardrobe, so to speak, it's looking like this'll end up one of two ways. One, I'll realize that I'm not even remotely sexual, it was all a front, I was denying who I really am, and I will come out of this hibernation-state the least horny, non sex-driven person alive. OR! I'll accept all other parts of what makes me me, and that will only help the rest of myself rise to the same level my sexual part has been riding for years. This can only make my sex, and future relationships, much more fulfilling and satisfying, not disappear. Yeah, I'm betting on the latter too. I can't imagine myself not being sexual, but I can imagine myself being other things in addition to and equal to it.

The ease of sex-based relationships is great. But now I'm starting to understand why I (always) avoid(ed) "real" relationships. After my first serious relationship (in college) I learned what would go on to be only the tip of the iceberg: nothing makes your personal issues rise to the surface faster than having a long-term boyfriend. That particular coupling of mine was highly dysfunctional. But back then I didn't get how much of it was symptomatic of the many problems I had hidden for years. I didn't want to delve into them at the time, for a few reasons, but mostly because I didn't understand them. I didn't recognize that something was up with me, because I had never been challenged the way a boyfriend and real relationship challenges you. At the time, it was completely new territory, and I was scared. Scared because I didn't understand why I was dissolving into an anxiety-ridden, depressed mess. And scared because I had always been so sure of who I was, and that I was happy, and now I had no idea if either of those things was true at all. After that relationship ended, I haven't had a real boyfriend since. To this day, in fact. I've dated, I've "been seeing" people, but I have not had a boyfriend since 2005. That may sound like a long time. Maybe subconsciously I knew I just wasn't ready. Not ready for a relationship, and not ready to be challenged in that way again because I had barely yet dealt with my issues the way I needed to. I knew that should I pursue a relationship before resolving my shit, it would only lead to the same result: me falling apart, and not fully knowing why. I am not hoping to have a man now that I'll be "fixed", but I am hopeful that I'll able and fully equipped to deal with the challenges a relationship brings. It'll be nice to NOT have anxiety or panic attacks from someone I choose to involve myself with, who is supposed to add joy to my life.

There's another reason why I'm not entirely sure if I miss the act of sex itself. That whole touchy, tricky zone of satisfaction, and orgasm. For me, yes, they can be seen as two separate things. Being someone who has a super sensitive and very particular clit, I understand the work that goes into making me come orally. (Or in some unfortunate cases, the intense labor, for the many who don't know what the heck they're doing down there.) I also understand that a dick, via angles and other inner-vag knowledge, can accomplish magical things, if not clitoral orgasm. So I've long been a firm believer that I don't need an orgasm to consider sex a success / satisfying. But in the last year, I've realized that may have been me giving the guy a get out of a jail free card, a free pass, because I'm secretly ashamed and embarrassed that I can take upwards of 15-25 minutes to orgasm through oral. I feel like the guys who have attempted resent me super hard for not coming faster, if at all. I feel like I have to apologize for my vagina, when, in fact, so many guys are just terrible at eating me out. I don't know if it's because most girls they've been with have faked but didn't own up, and now these guys think they're masters of the poon. Like those guys who declare "I can make you come in two minutes. Every girl I've been with, I've made them come in two minutes." Okay, first of all: HAHAHAHA. And second of all: false. You must be shockingly bad that two minutes is as much as a girl is willing to put up with. Or, these chicks know, like me, within that time frame if you're going to get the job done or not. If you're not, that's when the fake happens. To get your damn, unskilled head out of our twats. Or maybe these girls don't know what a real, 30 second, full-body clitoral orgasm really is. So, sorry- unless your tongue is battery operated, if she's "come" in two minutes, I call bullshit. It's easy to see why I might not miss sex, at least certain parts of it. Oral sex is just so frustrating. I've tried to teach, explain, give directions that sound more like I'm helping you hang a painting ("a little to the left...up a little..down.. More to the right..no, my right..") UGH. It's always proved pointless. If they've been with girls who like it a certain way (sucking, biting- get the fuck outta here with that, ease off the pressure and be gentle damn it!!), it's almost like it's so far ingrained in their brain and tongue-muscle memory that I just give up. It almost makes me teary, because that's honestly what's happened 98% of the time. Out of 11 years of men, exactly FIVE DUDES have achieved that goal. Given that ratio, it's easy to understand why I'd rather get fucked to exhaustion then have a guys jaw fall off and still fail.

And don't even get me started right now on cocks, size, angling, positions, and general screwing technique. That's a whole other essay. But I will say, no matter what, sex is better when there are either (some) feelings involved, or chemistry. Each one has their merits, but both heavyweights can stand alone. It's natural that I miss sex when I think about specific guys I have either one, or both, of those components with. I still check guys out, I still fantasize, I still masturbate. Actually, I now have a much greater appreciation for sex scenes and porn and my imagination than ever before. I can't say I wasn't comfortable with that part of myself- meaning, my sexuality when I'm alone- but I never really embraced it. Not sure why. It's nice to have this time to really dig into what I like, don't like, want to try. For instance, I've never been a crazy kinkhead, I'd like to figure out if I have that in me. Or, I've always been incredibly awkward at dirty talk. I am SO BAD AT IT. It's really terrible!! When guys ask me to tell them what I want, what I like...I can't even form a goddamn sentence to answer that super basic question. I usually opt for, "Uhhh what you're doing is great, ummmm..." And then go down on them so I don't have to talk anymore. I've never attempted this yet, but I can't imagine role playing would go over much better. I'd probably "break" constantly, a la Carol Burnett. I'm sure all of these things, the discomfort and unease in being totally open and putting myself in an exposed and vulnerable place, can be attributed to my lack of self-love. I'm really hoping that I'll have much better, and more fulfilling, satisfying sexual experiences when this is over. I've always wanted to be better and even more comfortable in the bedroom; never would've guessed a break from sex would be the key to getting me there.

To sum up: I miss sex, especially after writing this piece. But, I'm more focused on evolving as a whole right now, because I know that will make sex all the better when I return. And I shall return; you wangs, be ready!! Though hopefully, I'll be making my comeback with higher standards. And a higher orgasm rate, damn it. Because, really... who am I kidding, they are GREAT. Take a class, gents. Your lady will love you for it.

DAY 13: What's Love Got To Do With It?

Teehee. You KNOW you just sang that post title as you read it.

Jokes aside, I am really annoyed at myself right now. I reached out a couple nights ago to my most recent ex (for valid reasons, I swear!) against all my better judgement. I'd been feeling so secure and good these past few weeks, I thought I could handle it. He's moved on, for awhile now, with a new girlfriend and all. And I've made leaps and bounds emotionally with this project. I truly had no other motives other than asking him legit botany questions [my new place has a great backyard, and he's sort of horticulturally (new word, check it) obsessed. End of story.] But, that of course turned into a conversation about how we've both been doing. Which segued into how he hurt me. And then how he's sorry. And then how I really don't like him or care about his apologies. What is the matter with me? I could've easily not turned to him as my go-to gardening resource. Why didn't I just fucking google "how to grow eggplants"? But I didn't; I talked to him and was paying the price of "get ready to feel crappy for the next several hours." OH, JOY. My favorite game.

I really thought I'd be okay, talking to him. I may not particularly ever want to see his face ever again; I think if I did I might pass out, or punch something. But other than that I felt fine with the idea of reaching out to him. Since the break, I've mostly moved on, despite not ever getting closure or answers to unresolved issues. Maybe I texted him because I subconsciously am seeking those things (fucking damn closure.) But what with time, and this project, I felt like I'd healed from him, and beyond. I've resolved personal things that were linked to how and why he was able to hurt me as much as he did. I've come to terms with the fact that he moved on so quickly after things ended between us. That he and his new girlfriend spent Christmas meeting both of their respective families. That this stupid bitch takes amazing Instagram photos. That I don't want to be with him, and that she's clearly a better match for him. So why did I feel so shitty after our very brief conversation tonight?

Instead of answering that, in a logical next move, I decided to read a whole bunch of news articles on the polar vortex. And how it means the North Pole is warming up faster than the rest of the planet, and is responsible for the recent record-shattering cold snaps. So, I thought to myself, the world is basically ending. Which threw me into this whole mental place, "What's the point of it all? Why the heck are we existing? If the world ends, then shouldn't we throw all selfish cares and ambitions to the wind, and instead invest our energies in someone we love, and sharing the rest of a beautiful life with them?" Ummm. What is the matter with me? How does it go from a simple text about gardening, of all things, to how the world will end and what really matters in our existence? It's a scary, wide-open field of a thought that I cannot begin to answer, that existence thing. All these feelings began manifesting within me, that nothing I'm doing is worth it. That maybe the only thing that'll be worth it when the apocalypse comes will be having someone I love by my side, or at least knowing I have loved and been loved in return. Who the fuck cares about my writing and singing and personal pursuits, in the grand scheme of things? And I'm talking about me, too- do I even care about these things, if I'm alone? Not because I "need" someone, but because love the greatest and most rewarding force out there? Isn't it the one thing that drives us crazier, and enhances our senses, beyond anything else?

I suppose part of this is stemming from being painfully-too-aware of how happy my ex and his new girlfriend are together, how perfectly suited, and inseparable they are. Which hurts, but only because I don't have that, and I don't know if I ever will. I never saw it, love, as something I desired; and if I did ever crave it, I didn't really know why. Part of why I'm glad I took on this 100 days thing is because I'm learning ways that will make it possible for me to be open and ready for real love (first Tina, now Mary J! YES), should I ever really want a relationship someday. With who and how I was before I started this, I doubt I would've ever been ready to be with anyone, in any real way. I still don't feel ready- I have to keep this work up in order to be.

But still, I feel afraid that maybe achieving enlightenment and coming into my truth won't be enough at the end of the day. Is it enough to achieve these things, for me, and be happy within myself? Or is true happiness, and life's true worth, only attained if I have extended that enlightenment beyond myself, and into my relationships and the world around me? I realize I have to be patient; I did set out on this journey only about three weeks ago. I know I have to get through more growth and self-realization stuff in order to fully and honestly put myself out into the world around me. But is that still enough to make me feel alive, that I have lived, if I still feel alone? Meaning, even if I come put of these 100 days a brand-new, secure, self-loving woman, will that really equate to "fulfillment"? Or will I simply be good on a personal level, and that's it? Will I feel horribly alone at the end of these 100 days, if all I get out of this is self-love, self-awareness, self, self, self...? Don't me wrong, I'm not shitting on the value of this project's work. I felt self-love for the first time in my life after 8 days in, and that bowled me over into a zone of euphoria that was amazing. But now I feel like I'm picking away at new, unbroken ground. I've never asked myself real, hard questions about love and the meaning of life. Is love really... it? THE thing?

Then again, maybe I've just seen too many shows and movies that show love as the most important force, the thing that makes life worth living above all else. Maybe that's true, but for now I have to focus on loving myself. Once I fix damaged parts of me, I'm sure I'll be ready to find out just how necessary love is to a meaningful life. And once I'm better equipped to honestly put myself out into the world, maybe I'll see just how much truth there is to all those shows and films that illustrate how no one is resistant to it's power. But until then, I'll have to be good enough for me, and take it one day at a time. I can't get caught up in worrying and doubting and letting my bad habit at tearing myself down take me over.

Maybe that's also why I reached out to my ex, now. If anyone could shake this work I've been doing, it'd be him. He's the one person who broke me, who hurt me so badly I didn't think I'd ever heal. It was a test, really, to see how well I could hold up after coming this far on my own, in my own space. I can't say I passed with flying colors, considering I immediately resorted to thinking about the world ending. But it was an important reminder for myself of why I'm doing this, and how very important it is to apply what I've been learning to life everyday. Its the only way to get stronger beyond the safety of myself. It's only natural that I'm still shaky on my feet. But I'm looking forward to the day when I'm not only steady, but able to walk into the world and not fall no matter what comes at me. How cheesy is that? SO CHEESY. But let me tell you- as someone who has never read a self help book and absolutely abhors motivational literature, I kind of get it. Once you start to really feel your strength, and experience something even slightly close in intensity to the spiritual dream I had a few weeks ago, it stops being so corny and starts being something you want more of. Sort of like how I used to answer "want a massage?" offers- with a huge eye roll, and a kill-me-now "Oh, goddd. Get out of here." But then, I got a massage (followed by a five- yes, FIVE- hour life-landmark of a sex session) and that pretty much changed the game. So, while I won't be picking up any of those "change your life today!" books, I will unapologetically be dropping terrible phrases. Well, I'll stop apologizing, but I'll always acknowledge how terrible they are. I may be growing up, but certain things won't ever change.

DAY EIGHT: Elena Maher's New Rules?

Between work, the holidays, and moving to my new place, it's been a busy week since my last post. It has given me a lot of time to think and (quasi-) decide not just what this project really is, but what it realistically can be. Ever since I broke the original 100 days, I had to take a step back and figure out why I did, what that means for this second attempt, and reassess what this project is. What it comes down to, with a life-changing, transformative undertaking like this, is that there can be no "rules". Instead, I decided that the best course of action would be to give myself a list of abstract guidelines. These helped me to understand, and will continue to help me understand:

- my real motivators
- why there can't be set-in-stone rules, and
- what the feasible goals are. For now, anyway.


1) GET THOSE SEXY WIENERS OUT OF MY FACE. YES, STILL.

And away from my general vicinity, thank you. This has not changed. There's still no sex in my near future, all you hot studs be damned. I'm trying to keep my head and eyes clear because I'm seeing myself for the first time, separate and outside of the influence of men. I love y'all, but I can't do both you and me at the same time... not yet. Until I feel completely secure and solid on my emotional feet, and able to uphold that security within male company, there will be no boudoir activities of any kind. THIS INCLUDES ORAL. Oral sex...is still sex! Technically I suppose it's foreplay, but come on now. My dear, dear boys. I can't understand how so many of you think that's a "pass" in this project. You were all around when Clinton was on trial, PLEASE don't make me whip out extremely dated jokes. Monica has moved on, as should we all.

And while sex may not be directly tied into emotions for the male gender, I've realized...they are for me. I hate, HATE admitting those words and knowing it's true. But I was stupid. I mistook "emotions" for "love". I assumed because I could have great sex without being in love, that meant I was above all that girly "feelings" nonsense. But since this project began, I've learned some shit about myself. How I used sex and men in the wrong way, to fill different kinds of voids. And that still links sex to my emotions, even though I didn't realize it then. I do feel a little weak, a little disappointed in me, for admitting that- here, and to myself. I want to be that bad bitch that can love and leave and compartmentalize like a motherfucker. In the past, I was convinced that was sooo me. But I was just masking other issues, and blinding myself to how I truly felt at the time. Maybe it was another way to prevent falling for someone, or getting hurt, or leaving myself vulnerable. Which is probably why I feel very exposed admitting this particular truth about myself now. Ughhh. I am really feeling uncomfortable being fully honest about this! What the hell?! I don't know if I'm ready to admit that I can't fully separate my (gasp!) feelings when it comes to sex. And this right here, this reluctance to be honest about something that makes me who I am, pretty much illustrates exactly why I'm not ready for dick yet. So reel your junk in, gents.


2) It's okay to have crushes (again)

At the kick off of this ordeal, I was so set on, and excited about, the idea of "No men?! Whaaat! HOORAY!" that up until a week ago, this particular "rule" wouldn't have existed. Not even in a fetal stage. It would've been like, "Boys? Are you kidding me? Hahahaha! PASS." I wanted less than nothing to do with them, and that included investing the slightest of mental energies. I was also so caught up on the high of newly-found self-love and my heightened self-awareness, that I kinda...forgot about men. But I didn't realize that as I'd grow and change, I'd start to feel comfortable slowly adding them back into my life. I don't mean in a sex way (yet.) I mean in a getting to know them, outside of sex, way. As long as I can hold onto my sense of self and feel secure, for now I'm okay with letting myself like someone, and even hanging out. I'll be a new version of me though, so all my former habits and ways of connecting with people, particularly with men, will be different. It's started to become about consciously maintaining who I'm discovering I am, now, while getting to know someone new. When I no longer have to mentally focus on making that happen, when I'm at ease and myself without having to think about it, maybe then I'll be ready to add sex back into it. That doesn't put sexual attraction out of the equation,but now I'm understanding why evolved people don't have sex right away, or don't need to. I feel full and happy within me, from me, and I'm finally in tune with, and in control of, my power and my worth. When you gain those abilities and become really aware of them, the cravings for sex, and men in general, disappears. You no longer feel an urge to use it/them to fill an emotional void. True, I am starting to crave sex again. I'm finding myself wanting men back in my life (very, very little... but still.) Only now, I feel it's for the right reasons. When the day comes that I know I'm ready, I'll be approaching sex in the right way. No longer hitching my ride to any post that crosses my path, just because it's there.


3) I may not be having sex. But I'm still a sexual person

This may sound a little crazy, but here it is. Part of me was afraid to admit I could happily do without. I was terrified that by really following through for 100 days, it would mean I wasn't the sexual person I always identified myself as. And despite my burnout, despite learning that my sex drive also stemmed from personal issues, I love my sexual side. I love that I'm a free spirit and wild, and I love that I thoroughly enjoy a good cock. I was so scared that if I was honest with myself the way an endeavor like this forces you to be, I'd discover I wasn't sexual at all. That I didn't need it. That it had all been a lie. And I could cry just thinking about the possibility of that being true. But, I think a reaction like that proves to me that it is, to the core, part of who I really am. It may have gotten confused and mixed up in bullshit over the years, but it's still me. Just because I'm giving it up for 100 days doesn't mean I'm not a sexual person anymore, nor that I never was. I was scared to be honest with myself about being happy without, because I didn't want to lose a part of me I had come to love so much. But my inner Blanche lives on.


4) The rules have to be flexible

Initially, I didn't specifically define anything beyond the absolute "no sex, no dating, and above all, no dicks" guidelines, because I couldn't. I had no idea of what was going to happen, where this project would go, and how it would change me. But then after I broke it only 13 days in, a lot of people brought up the question, "Are you sure not having sex is the healthiest thing for you?" Which kind of made me laugh, but it was actually a fair point. It took messing up to realize that as I change, the project itself would have to change with me. It couldn't stay stagnant and flat-lined, while I did leaps and bounds and cartwheels on it's surface. It has to breathe, evolve, and be malleable; be free to flex as I do. So while I do plan on still sticking to the one "absolute" rule of no sex, i do understand that's not my, or strong enough, of a motivator. Which leads me to...


5) (Not) doing something because it's a "rule" is the worst motivator of all time

I'd like to think I'm determined and strong enough to hold out for any goal of 100 days, but that by itself proved to be too weak of a motivator. Because, well, rules suck. Having rules and following them because you "have to follow the rules" is the worst fucking thing ever. I have a large distaste for authority in general; and when it comes to telling me what to do, you better rethink it, because I will hate you forever. So like a diet that I don't want to do, telling myself I can't sleep with guys because that's "the rule" clearly wasn't good enough to keep me going til the 100-day mark. I had to switch up my approach. After I broke the 100 days, my appreciation of my newly-acquired self-love shot up by about a million. When that happened, I understood what I stood to gain by really sticking to staying away from men. I get to finally grow into the me I always wished I was. Now it's a one-day-at-a-time kinda thing, and I'm basing everything, all my decisions and what moves to make, on my instinct. If it feels safe and okay, like it's not going to fuck with my new-found power and self-worth, then I'm going to go with it. This whole heightened sense-of-self thing also creates a crazy and amazing euphoria. I used to feel a fraction of this feeling, and a short-lived version of it, through sex. But as powerful as sex is, I've never quite experienced anything so solidly soul-filling and electric before, from myself- and it doesn't quit. Now THAT is one hell of a reason to not only keep on, but to do so smiling.


6) Applying new self-growth and realizations to every day life and interactions is HARD but important

I know I'm keeping guys out of this endeavor, as much as I possibly can. But as I've come into myself more and more, I feel increasingly ready to be out amongst people and "practice" staying this new me. Does that make sense? I hate using the word practice, because that makes it seem unnatural and forcibly learned behavior. I'm not so much learning, as I am undoing years of bad habits and faking shit. As much as I won't be having sex, and am not ready for men, I have to take this new version of me and put it into situations that, in the past, would have made me break. It may not be easy to be a better version of you when nothing is challenging it except yourself. But it's a hell of a lot harder, and really puts it to the test, when other people come into the picture.

Take what happened on New Year's Eve, for example. I met an absolutely adorable guy. I had checked him and his friends in at the VIP entrance, and made a joke that his arm-in-a-sling was all the pick-up line he'd need with the ladies. Did I think anything was going to happen? Not even a little bit. I had no intentions of even talking to the kid beyond what's required in my job description. Sure, all the clientele that night were very attractive, of course I still notice and appreciate that shit. But since I started this project I can acknowledge without caring if I'm involved. Guys, hit on me, don't hit on me; it doesn't matter to me now. So I was surprised, to say the least, when we made out later (yeah, it was awesome.) It wouldn't have been remarkable beyond that, but I felt something I haven't in years: zero doubt. In terms of how attracted I was to him, there was no inkling of settling. No bells went off, no flags got raised in that "am I into him?" department. No signs of the "throw-up" feeling to be found. From the brief time we talked, I really liked his energy. Now, I didn't go into this 100 days to improve my game or meet men. But...there's something about this new dude that I don't want to pass up on. I want to hang out with him again, damn it! Is all this breaking "THE RULES"? My instinct is telling me it's okay to keep talking to him. And maybe I can keep it there, and get to know him in a real way that's so different from how I've always gotten to "know" men I'm into. It'll be cool, if it works out. But scary because this is so new to me. I've never not led with a sexual foot and been able to keep it completely genuine.


7) I may need a vagina mantra

For this weekend, should I hang out with this kid. I'm still working on it. Hilarious submissions are now being accepted.


8) For now isn't for always

For years I swore I could compartmentalize, separate my emotions from men and sex. Well, now I see that wasn't true at all. I could hide my emotions, ignore them, but they were there, waiting to bubble up to the surface. But now, with how much I have and will continue to grow into myself, I'll be able to actually do what I always claimed to be able to. That is, should I still want to do the casual thing once these 100 days are up. I also always claimed not to care about shit talkers and haters, but that was pretty much a lie. I could joke it off like a pro, but having people say hurtful things and judge me killed me inside. Since I've been growing into myself more and more, I find myself genuinely and wholeheartedly not caring about what people think of me. In short, I'm finally becoming the woman I thought I always was (but really wasn't at all.) So, if I can give myself all of this positive stuff, and guy can't, why reassess "the rules" at all? Clearly, for now, this whole "no men allowed" thing seems to be working out fantastically well in terms of how I'm feeling. But two words are the problem- "for now". In this moment, today, it's working. But I'm not going to be the same person I am now, tomorrow. Or the next day. Which is exciting stuff, don't get me wrong. But now I see how this project is going to work beyond myself- how the rest of the world, and me out in it, will factor into this project. A whole entire next level is about to start. Hopefully these guidelines will help me as I navigate new waters.