I ended my celibacy in a sacred yet unexpected way. I dropped the story about how I needed to wait for the "perfect" guy or the "ideal" relationship in order to break down my sexual barriers. Instead, I went far out of my comfort zone, to a one-night stand. Well, a one-Sunday-afternoon stand, at least.
I wasn’t emotionally invested in the guy; instead of trying to rationalize every detail of our encounter, I just lived in the moment. I was present. Even though it wasn't the most pleasurable experience I've ever had, it was better than anything I'd felt before.
I realized, "I'm still here. I'm still on this bed, in this body."
I didn't leave.
Hell to the fucking yes.
That experience led me to my next partner, who would blow the lid off the entire vessel that was my sexuality.
We also met on a dating site and, truthfully, I thought our date was going to be a dud. I was pleasantly surprised by his warmth, charm, and intellect.
One date soon turned into sleepovers, secrets in the dark, and warm, passionate embraces.
I remember when it was clear we were going to take things up a notch during our second sleepover. I decided to open up to him and share all of the gritty details of my past—the trauma, the pain, the abuse. I told him everything. He just held me and listened, affirming my truth.
I also told him about the dissociation—something I'd never done with a potential sexual partner, ever.
He wanted to know what he could do to prevent me from slipping into numbness. I told him that being close, looking into my eyes, facing me, holding me before, during, and after would help keep me present.
He listened and he acted.
That's when the floodgates opened up and the sea of pleasure emerged.
I'd never experienced such a sacred act of sex. It was beautiful. It was life-affirming. It was love.
Finally, I was free.