Back in September, I was laying on my bed reading when a sudden idea came to me. What would my life be like if I wasn't always trying to get laid? I was shocked to discover that this notion was revelatory and I had never once considered it before. It filled me with a sense of excitement like at the prospect of a serious but surmountable challenge, and strangely, a sense of an almost erotic calm.
I slept on it, and then decided to enter into what I have been referring to as "The Experiment."
I wrote myself a list of rules. No chasing women, in any sense of the word, no sex, no kissing, no spanking girls as they walk by, no sexual contact of any sort. I defined all of these rigidly and left no loopholes for what I knew later would be my rationalizing mind getting a hold of The Experiment and inventing ways to get out without failing. I was also to keep The Experiment entirely to myself. I wasn't doing this for attention or for other people in any way, so they need not know.
I wrote a series of things I would have to do in order to demonstrate my commitment to the Experiment. Among them: deleting girls I had been aching for from facebook and myspace, removing all female contacts from my cell with whom I had any sexual interest or could ever see myself having interest in, and deleting my long cherished folder of naked pictures and video of various girls I've been with.
Clearly, I was serious.
The night before I began, I was having a conversation with the girl in this post and she said to me, after hearing all I had to say on whatever it was we were chatting about, "Maybe you should just take a break from women." I almost cried hearing it. I felt visible in a way that I've rarely experienced. That night we slept together.
The following day I signed my contract. The Experiment was to take shape over three phases and I was supposed to keep a journal each week, chronicling my progress. The first phase was the total celibacy described above, which would last from September to Thanksgiving. The second phase was to forbid myself to chase, but to allow hookups - no sex. If a woman made it clear she wanted me, or threw herself at me, I was permitted to have her provided we didn't sleep together. That would last until spring break, at which point I would enter the final phase, where the only rule was that I couldn't chase.
In my first stint of celibacy, a lot changed. I found myself less anxious overall, less worried about women, less worried about how I looked or presented myself (which isn't to say I became a slob, I just didn't fret over a wrinkle in my shirt before going to a party as I might have before). It was liberating. And then I failed for the first time.
My contract stipulated that if I failed, I was to withdraw from the experiment. One night I was at a friends, drinking with him and his attractive and interesting roommate. The time wore on, we all got more and more drunk, and finally, as I was leaving and my friend had already gone to bed, his roommate came down from her bedroom and said, "Dasani...you want to come upstairs and...talk?" I pondered for only a moment before telling her yes, I would like that. I wanted to see if I could hold out against temptation, which made for a differently sexy experience, of her trying to get me and me saying no and her apologizing for broaching my barriers. Interesting.
However, I relented, and we slept together. I decided to stay in The Experiment.
I failed a second time. Going to an old FBs house to drop off some books I had borrowed, I had to come in through her unlocked side door because she had not answered her phone. I found her, asleep on her bed at noon - she works the night shift - and so I crawled in next to her. She turned to me and I got a view of her near perfect breasts in a tight gray undershirt and couldn't resist. I started feeling her up, and as she got excited I told her we couldn't do anything but touch a little. And then I convinced her to get in the shower with me.
What followed was one of the most erotic, sensual experiences of my life. While my experiment had started out with celibacy, I was learning more in the realm of sexuality than I had imagined possible. I would pull her to me, roughly grabbing her breasts and whispering in her ear. She would thrust back into me and beg for me to fuck her, but in my twisted sense of loyalty to my promise to celibacy, I told her that we could only touch like this.
We showered for what must have been an hour and a half, washing each other, feeling each other. Wanting. Unable to sleep with or fool around with her, I experimented with other halfway options. I had her lie in the tub in front of me and finger herself while I watched. I tried talking dirty in a loud voice instead of my usual throaty whispers. We were both spectacularly turned on. And ultimately, I couldn't resist pushing a little further. I had her kneel in front of me while I jerked off and blew an enormous load on her face. She didn't even flinch.
I went the rest of the way to Thanksgiving without breaking again, and shortly into the second phase of The Experiment, I quit. I decided I had nothing to learn from simply denying myself sex but allowing hook ups.
As I write this and see it all in front of me, thoughts put to words, I realize just how much I did learn, and how little I know of sexuality. I'm too often complacent with just having sex, getting it over with and adding a notch to my belt. There's so much more to be enjoyed and experienced.