During a recent hotel stay, I was taking advantage of real cable by flipping through the channels and saw that reruns of Sex in the City were showing all evening. All the nostalgia of watching Sex and the City during and after my college years came back. Some of my sorority sisters and I would head to the house who could afford to have HBO, get our too sweet of drinks that were mixed with cheap vodka, and position ourselves in front of the TV.
I always related to the main character, Carrie. She was a writer who had great friends, an amazing sense of fashion and great shoes. She even wrote about the life and trials of dating. (C’mon- you see the resemblance!)
In the episodes I watched that night, Carrie was celebrating her book signing then taking a train to San Francisco with one of her best friends, Samantha. The hidden agenda behind her trip to SF was having sex with Mr. Big because it had been too long since she had sex. Once the opportunity presented itself, she quickly put Samantha out of the hotel room to take advantage of getting some from an old-faithful. (Been there. Done that.)
As I watched the shows, the familiar connection I once shared with the characters was missing. Samantha’s sexual escapades seemed dangerous, Charlotte’s thirst came across a bit annoying and hit too close to home and Miranda’s adjustment to being a single mother and career obsession seemed unfortunate. My nostalgia had dissipated and I found myself judging these characters versus enjoying them. I had no right to be judging anyone, fictional or not, considering that I have mirrored some of each of character in my own past.
So, I started thinking to myself . . . was I prude because I no longer felt connected to these beloved characters? Did I no longer envy how they lived and the boldness in which they identified their lives? Was I turning into an old, judgmental church woman? The kind that I defied growing up and loathed as a young adult. When did this happen? How was I no longer a die-hard Sex in the City fan?
Oh. I know why. I stopped having sex. There is no sex in this city.
I have been living a celibate lifestyle for four years. When I first started this journey, I was recovering from heartbreak and the loss of a future I thought was meant for me. One of my ways of grieving was to stop having sex. It was almost an act of defiance but was driven by the need to protect my heart. I already felt conviction about premarital sex in previous years but shrugged it off as something that stemmed from my churchy upbringing. I remember saying out loud, “Lord, I’ll give you everything— but that.” I thought sex was one thing in my relationships that worked. That was how I showed affection and appreciation which was often masked as love.
Needless to say, I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I made the decision to close my legs until my wedding night. First, I took my selfish reasoning and covered it in “Christianese” because that made it easier to explain. I was talking the talk but struggling to walk the walk. I was grieving a broken heart but made it seem like my decision was all for God and an act of obedience.
When the struggle became too great, I tried to numb it with alcohol. That way, I could blame it on the goose if things got out of hand. After three years of celibacy, that’s exactly what happened. I got “loose with the goose” and slept with someone.
While I would love to blame it on the alcohol (I promise, I won’t keep the song lyrics going), I knew that it was all me. I gave in to my desires because I did not have a proper foundation for living differently. I reverted back to what I knew, especially when things got too difficult to manage and my fleshly desires continued to grow.
I was also just tired of feeling like an outsider. I was tired of living this life that no one else understood and it seemed like no one else was truly living. I was tired of struggling with feelings of rejection when this guy or that guy stopped calling once I shared that I’m not having sex before marriage. While select friends supported me, they had no idea what it was like to live a lifestyle that is counter-cultural to everything we see on television, hear in music or watch in movies. I felt like an anomaly. Therefore, I couldn’t really talk to anyone about it. How could they understand? How could my married friends relate? I thought I was alone and had to do this by myself.
This was one of my greatest downfalls at the beginning of this journey. I was trying to do it all on my own while keeping up this idea of perfection. I wanted everyone to know that I wasn’t having sex but that I wasn’t a prude. I was a “cool celibate woman” . . . because those don’t exist? (Insert eye roll here.) I was too prideful to share my story with most women because I felt like such a cliché. I was another single woman in church hoping to get married. Same story, different church. But in reality, church is where I realized that I had pride about the optics of my life as portrayed to others. While I acted as if I had something to prove, in all actuality, no one was stressing about my decisions. People were busy living their own lives and fighting their own battles.
The wall of ridiculous expectations I built was centered around protecting me instead of trying to honor God. No wonder I failed miserably at abstaining from sex. I had built my wall so high that I was keeping out the very One I needed to lean on in order to walk this journey successfully. By not letting Him in, I didn’t have a true foundation to stand on.
To build that foundation, I had to change my perspective by renewing my mind. I did this by spending time in the Word of God and allowing the Holy Spirit to show me the insecurities I needed to release. They only helped fuel my careless decisions and leave me in a state of regret. Ultimately, to be a new creature in Christ, I had to ask God for help.
I asked Him to help me surrendered my sex life and my idea of love over to Him. Sounds heavy, right? It was. I needed to connect the dots. If I wanted Him to be the head of my life, I had to give EVERYTHING to Him. If I wanted Him to write my love story, I had to learn what it meant to love Him first which would eventually teach me how to love myself.
One of the first things He did after I surrendered was to send me a support system. I value real friendships where transparency and loyalty are key. Knowing this, He sent me other single women who were working to live similar lives. None of us were perfect and we all had our struggles but we wanted to do it with God on our side. Iron sharpens iron.
Then, He hid me. And by “hid me” I mean I felt like I was invisible to the opposite sex. I knew my dating life was going to change but I wasn’t aware it would disappear. I wasn’t asked out on a real date (I’m not talking that “let’s hang out” crap), I wasn’t properly approached (the “Smile Chocolate!” doesn’t count) and I didn’t kiss for two whole years. You heard me. Two. Years. I began to wonder if I just wasn’t having sex because I didn’t have any options or because I was choosing not to. But God used that time to shed light on my true values, present new opportunities, reveal my purpose and build my strength.
I also bought a house, received a promotion at work and traveled to new places far and wide.
All of that was His way of showing me how a man, job or persona can’t define my joy. True joy is found in Him. He opened my eyes to truths in His word and His true character. He also showed me that what I was going through is not just for me. My story, my journey and my experience are meant to help someone else.
A single, Christian woman not having sex is far from a Sex in the City episode. Some things that used to hit the spot, no longer do it. You may be at this same point of realization. Instead of sadly reminiscing about the change, recognize your growth. Stay strong in your walk and turn to God instead of trying to live a life that the world deems popular. He may manifest Himself in supportive friendships who encourage you, a book that inspires you or a blog that speaks your truth. Just know that He is there, He cares and you are not in this alone.
If you ever need someone to talk to or just relate to your struggle, hit me up in the comments or contact me separately. You can also view my YouTube video on if celibacy is a journey for you. My journey is here to give Him glory and help others.
