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I am impressed with religious people who can maintain a vow of celibacy. How wonderful that someone can be celibate for life. That someone is not me. Not unless you put me in a beautiful mountain sanctuary free of worldly distractions and temptations. I am in a period of celibacy, though—in the secular sense of the word, since it has been a few years since I have slept with anyone.
I’ve read that some violent crimes have been attributed to men who were isolated, troubled, and misguided. Since women weren’t falling all over them, they felt the need to seek revenge for not having their egos stroked. While I do not condone the violence, I can empathize with the fact that they are male, and as a human, I know we all suffer from loneliness at times.
I can empathize with the fact that they are male, and as a human, I know we all suffer from loneliness at times.
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In my middle age, I find myself dateless, childless, and too set in my ways to change. Life is busy. Speed dating and online dating services do not cut it for me. I go to a very liberal church where most of the women are married or lesbian, and I am not a drinker, so bars are out of the question. All these excuses aside, I know there are deeper reasons for my lack of bonding.
There are lots of men out there who do not meet society’s expectations of masculine confidence, grace, and charm. I am one of them. We are no George Clooney, we are not even Sheldon Cooper. We may be shy, reclusive, introverted, have low self- esteem, and lack attractive qualities to most of the population.
I frequently had weight problems, and on top of that, I’m a ginger. Growing up, my family moved enough times that I went to 9 different schools between k-12. This was not conducive to putting down roots, and being introverted compounded the situation.
There are lots of men out there who do not meet society’s expectations of masculine confidence, grace, and charm. I am one of them.
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Also, I was diagnosed with a mild non-verbal learning disability, which I contend is a milder form of autism or Asperger’s Syndrome; Closer to ADHD. I call mine a Selective Attention Deficit Disorder or SADD. To put it bluntly, I can’t take a hint.
I was a virgin until age 22 and seldom dated. If women were attracted to me, I didn’t know. When one flirtatious young lady sat in my lap at an open mic night, I was clueless. Each of the two girlfriends I had had had to explicitly make clear to me that she was interested.
My first girlfriend said something to the effect of “hey dumbass, why’d you leave me there at the cafe with that smarmy guy?” The second woman asked me out on a couple of dates, took me into her apartment, put her foot on my leg and started feeling me up on her couch. I was already in my mid-thirties.
And that’s it. The first relationship lasted seven months and the second one lasted four years. Other than those two, I have had a handful of dates, rejections—and a few times I had to do the rejecting. But of my 43-and-a- half years, I have been celibate and single for 39 of them—28 if you subtract latency—and it is certainly not for lack of desire. So, my current state of being is to embrace bachelorhood.
Rather than judge myself, or long for some external relationship to cure my pang, I am happy to be my own companion.
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I live in a messy bedroom, in the home of my elderly parents as I try to get my life together in more ways than one. Rather than judge myself, or long for some external relationship to cure my pang, I am happy to be my own companion. I can be grateful for not being in any acrimonious relationship. I can indulge my tastes in movies, plays, music, and food. I can maintain a messy bedroom. I don’t have to worry about interrupting or being interrupted. I know I am always right when I argue with myself.
So I want to deliver a Batman slap to the men’s rights activists because they miss the whole point of being male (or female) on many levels. Love is something that takes time. Sex with another person is not a birthright. Women are under no obligation to make me happy–nor could anyone. I also don’t depend on self-help platitudes or advice columns.
Sex with another person is not a birthright. Women are under no obligation to make me happy–nor could anyone.
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Everybody has to forge their own life path. Mine may be a lifetime of celibacy, though not in the strict monastic sense of the word. Or, I may meet my better half who also thinks I’m her better half. But if it doesn’t happen, I will still be happy.
Become a companion to yourself. Indulge your own passions. Make friends with men and women you have no intention of doing the nasty with. Get a dog or cat—if you must, get twenty. But take care of yourself and not at the expense of others!
Me, I’m going for a hike . . . after a healthy period of procrastination . . . and I am my perfect companion.
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Photo credit: Pixabay
Well written Andy. Your positive viewpoint is refreshingly genuine.
Reached the same conclusions as you. In my case, it’s contradictory drives of wanting and not wanting, and the many strings pulling at them giving myself mixed signals. But contradiction points to integration, and one can be certain the forces are moving to shape a life for us. Either way, it’ll be our plan.
Your story reads almost exactly like mine. I am happy where I am at but others think I should start a family, get a 9 to 5 job and get married. It just isnt me and Im glad Im not the only one who feels that way.
Make that three as well, Brian.
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