Sincere's Celibacy Chronicles Vol. 3: Water, Water Everywhere and not a Drop to Drink

My sincerest apologies. I seem to be having a great deal of trouble with commitment lately. I made a promise to post every Friday about my trek through the desert and for two Friday's I have deserted you. I won't bore you with all the excuses as to why this sudden lapse in communication has occurred. Suffice it to say I have too many balls up in the air at one time, and we all know how much hard work juggling balls can be. Whether you found that last line corny or cute, it is the perfect segue into today's topic. BUT before I get to the actual topic, let me preface it with two concise facts.

1. Celibacy equals clarity
2. It's a man's world (trite but true)

The world is full of penises. The politically correct phrase would be phallic symbols, but usually, I like to call a spade a spade, so we'll roll the Sincere way with this one. It all began last Saturday at the grocery store. I was simply perusing the aisles in the produce section when out of nowhere I was instantly annoyed. It was a fairly calm, quiet day at the supermarket. My shopping basket wasn't terribly squeaky, all of the wheels worked and turned in the right direction, and I could stand in one spot while making a decision between the Romaine or Mixed Spring Baby Greens without the having to do the shuffle around other people's shopping carts. After making the all important lettuce decision I leisurely wheeled a little further down the aisle and picked up two avocado, and a cucumber.

I felt my stress spot begin to tingle a little, but I couldn't figure out what the issue was. There is no way I was still stressing over the type of lettuce I'd chosen. I'd had a great day at work. What the hell was bothering me? As I passed a huge table housing an abundance of bananas it hit me. The produce section at the grocery store is stocked full of food stuffs that resemble the male genitalia: cucumbers, avocado, zucchini, carrots. I was livid! I can't even make a salad without being reminded of sex and how I'm not having any?! The whole world has gone mad! or maybe it's just me. Okay it is just me, but for someone who is trying to make a conscious decision not to engage in frivolous, cheap, sexual encounters solely for the sake of having an orgasm without even the thought, or the twinkle of a possibility of a meaningful relationship with the other person involved, a table piled insanely high with bananas is a bit too much to handle. So I made a sharp right turn past the bananas and made a bee line for the checkout lanes. On my way to the train I passed two hot dog stands and at least three people eating them. In my mind I gave them all the finger.

Sincere's Celibacy Chronicles Vol. 2- Sexual Myths CONFIRMED

Today's Sexual Myth CONFIRMED: Chocolate is a celibate woman's bestfriend.

I am a self-proclaimed junk food junkie. I make it a rule to indulge in something sweet at least once a day. When I'm in a relationship swapping sweets for sex is satisfyingly sufficient. However, we all know the name of the game by now, and sadly, there is no satisfyingly sufficient swapping going on. Most days I am beyond frustrated, irritated, and restless, and I don't always feel like working out. As a result the number of books I read in a month has spiked, I've rediscovered my obsession with fashion magazines, and my consumption of chocolate is off the charts. I have eaten the equivalent of at least three king-sized chocolate bars this week alone. It's kind of hard to explain the effects of chocolate on a celibate woman, but I'll take a stab at it. The mechanics of tasting chocolate is reminiscent of the way sex feels, without the anticipation of an orgasm (damn). When I taste chocolate it's the meeting of my tongue, a smooth, warm, wet place, and a hard, velvety, bittersweet piece of candy. Once the two meet the sweetness lingers a little and with a little caressing, gradually the two melt into each other. Immediately, happiness ensues and a smile comes across my lips. Euphoria. Like sex, the more chocolate I have, the more I want. The craving increases with every bite until my heart is content. Afterwards I like to lull in the sweetness of what just transpired. If it's really good, a nap will soon follow. Every once in a while, when I realize what I've done, I feel a little guilty, but usually it's all good.

Sincere's Celibacy Chronicles-Vol. 1 Sexual Myths CONFIRMED

So I guess the verdict is in on this one, I am only two weeks into the desert otherwise known as celibacy. This is the first of many installments (provided I make it through another week) in the little series I'm calling Sincere's Celibacy Chronicles. I've decided that rather than debunking sexual myths, I'll confirm the one's that are unfortunately proving to be true (for me anyway). There are about four that will be confirmed throughout this series, and I'll tackle them one at a time. So without further adieu:

Todays sexual myth CONFIRMED: Prolonged periods without sex/no orgasm will cause breakouts.
*For the purposes of today's post the terms Sex and Celibacy are personified.


Celibacy: I just don't understand why my face keeps is breaking out.

Sex: It's pretty obvious to me.

Celibacy: What do you mean, I drink plenty of water, I workout, I take good care of my skin.

Sex: Yeah, but when was the last time you had an orgasm??

Celibacy: (gives the stank eye)

Sex: Ohhh, that's right, my bad, I forgot who I was talking to.

Celibacy: It's ok, Sex, I know you have a tendency to play with people's emotions sometimes.

Sex: Hey, no hard feelings.

The Sex Saga Continues. . .

For some reason I feel the need to keep you all updated on my sex life, or lack thereof. I've received some very helpful suggestions from some of my female readers on how to handle this debacle. And I want you ladies to know I've taken it all to heart. I even made a trip to an Adult Store Saturday night to shop around for toys. While it's worth noting that I was amazed at the many choices of "toys" and contraptions available for my personal stimulating pleasure, particularly the Rabbit Pearl, I left the store empty-handed. The entire experience was most amusing, and somewhat pathetic. I just couldn't imagine myself using any of those things (at least not alone). I never liked stuffed animals as a little girl. I don't do fake bags. I don't do fake hair. And I don't do fake penis. I'm a realist. Typically, I'm not a soda drinker but if I choose to drink soda, I drink Coca-Cola because "it's the real thing."

I'm the kind of person who will stand out in the rain with no umbrella just so I can say I've had the actual experience of knowing what it feels like. Nothing tops a real life experience for me. But I'm also an open minded person, and I'll try almost anything once within good reason, hence the reason I entertained the idea of going to shop for toys in the first place. However, I've decided to go a different route and challenge my sexual frustrations, rather than satisfy them. I'm deciding to be celibate. For how long, I'm not quite sure, but if we start counting from my last sexual encounter, so far, it's been four months. So you see, I didn't choose celibacy, celibacy chose me. The past four months have been very difficult, but not overly so, and I think the worst is over. So going at least another four months in the desert seems feasible (from where I stand right now anyway). But of course there is a problem (it wouldn't be Sincere, if there weren't a problem). Although I have not engaged in copulation in four months, I have engaged in oral sex. These were only two isolated incidents within my four month dry spell, and there was no breaking and entering involved, so technically, I'm thinking I'm in the clear.

So I'm asking for your opinions, when a person decides to be celibate, does oral sex count?

I know what I think the answer is, but it is too heartbreaking, and infuriating to admit to myself. It's like standing in line at the DMV for half an hour on a particularly busy day, and then realizing you've been standing in the wrong line. So please break it to me gently. I'm half hoping you all will tell me what I want to hear. The right answer will mean that I can continue on my path of celibacy, and in a few months it'll all be over. The wrong answer (which is really the right answer) will mean that my path of celibacy just started about two weeks ago, and I have a very long road ahead of me. However, either way, I am going to do my absolute best to stick it out (admire the irony).

I've been celibate in the past before for a whole year and three months, so I'm sure I can handle this. Of course that was after my very first sexual experience which was HORRIBLE. Consequently, I didn't have much in the way of good sexual memories to torture me. Since then, however, I've managed to rack up a few really good times, and my last sexual encounter was hands down thee best sex of my life, so this go round, this celibacy thing is proving to be HELL some days. On those days I find a little exercise does a body good, so I workout or take a vigorous walk, and that usually takes care of it. Plus I know that when I finally do have sex my body is going to be dangerous! In the meantime, I'll continue to provide weekly updates on my progress, and the joys (if any), and woes of celibacy in a new series to Luv's Detriment entitled, Sincere's Celibacy Chronicles. I'll post updates every Friday until I decide to ditch the desert and climb off of the celibacy camel. While I can't predict how great each post will be, I can promise you it will be candid, if not mildly entertaining. Maybe I can live vicariously through your sex lives, feel free to drop any especially good time memories in my email box ( seeing as how that's the only box that will be getting anything dropped into it for a while).

Wish me Luck!
Sincere Lee

Riding in Cars with Boys

Disclaimer: This is a woman to woman practical advice session.

If you want to know what a man is thinking take a ride with him in the car. It doesn't even have to be a long distance ride, in about thirty minutes you'll find out almost anything you want to know. Things you never knew about him that you've been trying to figure out for years; things you wished you never knew about him. You'll find out what makes him tick. I'm not sure what makes them so comfortable and vulnerable, whether its the ride, the open road, the feeling of being behind the wheel of a car, lack of eye contact, but it never fails. For some reason a man's heart is wide open when he's driving, and his communication dial is turned all the way up. It never ceases to amaze me. It's like watching a butterfly emerge from it's cocoon. He'll tell you whatever is on his heart to say but the catch is you can't say anything.

You have to be very attentive and listen, and above all else be sincere. Don't give advice or make suggestions or comments, just listen. Hold his hand, rub the back of his neck, or don't do anything at all, but let him know you're there. Watch him, his facial expressions, the way he is physically responding to his thoughts. His body language will tell you all the things that he can't verbalize, which is almost more important than what he has to say. You have to watch him because he won't be looking at you. In fact it may be hard for him to look at you the rest of the night after that. Don't be offended or ask why when he suddenly seems distant. Try to understand why. And never bring it up again, unless prompted, even then, proceed with caution.

It's a lot like bird watching or any other sport or activity that requires patience, stillness, and attentiveness. If you're quiet enough you can observe the creature in it's natural habitat. Out of respect for the men in my life who have freely shared their inner most thoughts, and life-changing experiences with me while we were riding in the car, I will not discuss the many fascinating, inspiring, heartbreaking, and tragic things I've learned about them. But I will tell you how to know if just maybe you're fortunate enough to witness this experience firsthand. The one and only dead giveaway is if he turns down the radio when you get in the car, or any time during the ride and immediately begins to speak, consider yourself priveledged. There is something that happens to his voice, it's as if he's not even speaking to you; like you're not even there. He has this far off look in his face, and a sound in his voice and that's how you know he's going somewhere he doesn't go often, especially in your presence.

Please do not take this for granted. We have a tendency to miss the little things like this that men do because we're often too caught up in our own worlds. If my past relationships have taught me nothing else, they've taught me to always pay attention. If you play your cards right and you're supportive and attentive enough, eventually he'll turn the radio off completely, and then you're in the sweet spot. If, and only if, he does this it may be safe for you to ask a question or two, but you must be very careful. The wrong question or bad timing could shut the entire conversation down, and he'll probably never be that vulnerable with you again. Sometimes, on a rare occasion, while riding in cars with boys if you listen well enough, you'll discover a man.

Sincere Lee

Golden

The past two days here in New York City have been the most beautiful days I've seen in months. The weather was nothing short of phenomenal! I spent both days (Friday and Saturday) sitting on my ass on a park bench or a slab of concrete, thinking. I had lunch at Central Park on Friday, a salad. It was perfect weather for a mixed baby greens, chicken, avocado, dried cranberry, and walnut salad, with a side of balsamic vinaigerette. I spend a lot of time in Central Park, especially when my issues (i.e. my ex-husband, and my divorce) are getting to me. I was there for about two hours on Friday, people watching, duck watching, and relaxing.

So yesterday, phenomenal weather day number two, I decided to be a little spontaneous and venture over to Riverside Park. This is one of the many things I love about NYC, they can take a seemingly useless, eyesore of a piece of land, or waterfront, and it make a beautiful, relevant space. Riverside Park is located between Riverside Drive and the Hudson River. The south side of the park (which is where I spent the afternoon) is essentially a long, winding, bike trail accented with a few grassy spots for sunbathing or picnicing, and of course, the pier. Compared to Central Park, it really isn't very aesthetically pleasing to look at, but that's what makes it beautiful; it's honesty.

There are a million steps to walk down before you get to the "park," but once you're down there, this serene, sprawling, space is waiting for you, beckoning to you, forget the city, forget your life right now, embrace this life, it's peaceful, and honest; there are no ex-husbands here (at least not yours), only complete strangers, bike-riders (lots of them), runners, and the like, dogs, and ladybugs (lots of ladybugs).

We all seemed to have the same wish, to escape. As soon as I hit the bottom of the stairs I did just that. My ipod was on (no idea what was playing) and I began walking. My stride became a little bit lighter and softer with every step. City me met country me and for four hours my entire world slowed. down. Like the lens of a camera my minds eye took focus. I was acutely aware of everything around me. The whirring sound of the bike-rider's bikes as they whizzed by, the sound of the wind, the sound of my breath, the sound of my heart. I would walk about a mile and a half and then sit. The view was different every time, it changed my thoughts, which in turn changed my surroundings. It was like a magic slide show.

Sometimes I liked what I saw, sometimes I didn't, but equal time was spent focusing on each image. I met a ladybug within my first fifteen minutes there. She found a home on my bag and stayed with me the entire day. I watched her crawl around inside the crevices and folds of the leather of my purse. She seemed to be doing the same thing I was doing. It was obvious she didn't belong there but she was trying to find her way anyway. Every time I moved to walk a little and sit somewhere else I looked for her, and she was always there; busily exploring the terrain of my cream, Marc by Marc Jacobs hobo. Maybe I was a ladybug in a past life I thought.

I spent the better half of my four- hour- day- at- the- park sitting at the pier. This has to be one of the most peaceful places I've ever dwelled in. I was totally and thoroughly relaxed in my peaceful dwelling. I listened to music and thought until my thoughts were no more, and I could hear only the music from one side of my head to the other. I could feel the sun on my skin. It seemed so close that I swear there were flecks of gold from it being carried on the wind speckling the water, sweeping into my hair, and making my eyelids heavy.

There was something rare, indescribable, and mystical in the air yesterday that touched everything and everyone that wandered onto that pier. It had to be gold. Even my ladybug was gold, with black and white spots, and I never even noticed it until I was in that moment. Sporadically, as I sat there in pure peace, my eyes would close for a few seconds. My head tilted up towards the sky and I could feel the gold sprinkling and flecking across my face. It made me smile and wish that I could bottle this golden moment up and take it home with me where I would sprinkle it all over the apartment, and sniff it before bed at night so that it would fill my senses and get into my dreams. After a short while they would reopen and it was like a new scene going on around me all a twinkle in gold. New voices, new laughter, a kayaker in the distance, a shorter piece of wood bobbing in the river, a new pair of geese flying off into the horizon. A closer distance between myself and the sun.

Dawning

Anxiousness is paralyzing. Joy tangled up with fear, and excitement, and pain. That feeling of wanting to cry and laugh and scream all at once for reasons you know but are unable to understand at the moment. How overwhelming life can be and then suddenly everything is silent. You don't know whether to relax or run. I have so much ahead of me, nothing is in front of me. I could run if I weren't so afraid. If I had the direction, If I knew the direction. I read something the other day about being aware of your unconscious mind. I'm too aware of it. It speaks to me all the time. Showing me things, giving me the answers to questions I never knew I needed to ask. I don't know what to do with all of it, it makes me so anxious. What move is the right move, what if I do it wrong? How many more chances do I get to screw it all up again before its over, I'm maxed out. My hands are shaking with the realization of what my life has in store for me, and while it may not all be great, it's certainly satisfying. It's certainly beautiful. "Don't look at your situation, try to look past it," is what he told me. I was too involved at the time to imagine the possibility of that. But now. I see what you want me to see. It's clear as the blue sky on a sunny day. I am dancing in the light. I own it. It belongs to me. It always did.