What going without sex has taught me (by Almaz Ohene)
Morning all. I’ve got a guest writer for you today. Almaz Ohene responded to my recent call-out for LGBTQ+ people who are single, which some of you may have seen on Twitter. I was looking for good people to interview but when I saw Almaz’s work I asked if I could commission her to write something instead. I’m thrilled she agreed. She also kindly agreed to answer a few extra questions, the answers of which have gone out to my paying subscribers.
I found what she has written so interesting, especially how by embracing temporary celibacy for want of a better word, she has seen her creativity, connection to loved ones and self-compassion flourish. This is one of my favourite parts:
By practising intentional communication, setting and keeping boundaries in place, and showing up for myself, I’ve been able to heal and grow in way I hadn’t dreamed possible.
Love that so much. I hope you all enjoy reading!
Have a good week,
Nicola
Twitter: @Nicola_Slawson | Instagram: @Nicola_Slawson
What going without (partnered) sex has taught me
I embraced being on my own back in October, after more than 10 years of casual flings and ethical non-monogamy. For the last nine months I’ve not been dating and/or sleeping with anyone, which is the longest I’ve ever gone in my adult life in without partnered physical intimacy. It can sometimes feel like a significant part of my selfhood has retreated and I’m still unsure of how other parts of me can ultimately fill the gap.
In the midst of a deadly pandemic, it can feel like one of the most narcissistic things a person can say; that “the lack of touch and spontaneity has been so incredibly, and horribly, hard for me and, that I’ve had to give myself space to grieve for that loss.”
In January, I started writing a book. A book I’ve been gestating my whole adult life. In January, I started writing a book about sex; after three months of absolutely no partnered sex. Right now, I’m at 18,000 words, and it has now been nine months of no partnered sex.
I spend most day thinking about partnered sex. Knowing that partnered sex is no longer on the cards – after the voracious sex life I’ve lived for my whole adult life – is strange yet transformative.
Right now, I’m at 18,000 words and it had been nine months of no partnered sex. My reference points for what partnered intimacy feels like now only lie in embodied memories.
* * *
I have a notebook that’s more than 10 years old. It’s where I list every person I’ve ever had a sexual encounter with. Casting my eyes across its pages is a visceral experience, where imprints of those memories become activated throughout body.
I well up often.
Not because I’m upset; no. But because in de-prioritising partnered sex, I’ve gained depth of clarity and self-knowledge I’d never before thought possible. I’m building resilience and empathy on my own terms and have created this container for myself where I feel emotionally safe and (mostly) content in my solitude.
I’ve been thinking that maybe not everyone is born to partner. And wondering how important is it really to me, that I find a romantic partner. Someone who will not only see me. Like, really see me; but also never try to minimise my wholeness.
Memories of pleasure are part of my story.
This month, four years ago I sat down at my desk and wrote the first story in a series that would eventually become the foundations for Kayleigh Daniels Dated, the sexual health and erotica content brand I ran as a side project (it was eye-poppingly expensive) to prove myself as a ‘creative visionary’.
The inspiration for those early stories first story came from the Summer of 2017, which, for me, was a period of intense, yet playful, sexual encounters with a whole host of different people. The inspiration for this book I’m writing is, absolutely, in that same spirit of explorative promiscuity.
But this time round, I’ve realised that I used to seek out to physical encounters in a continuous cycle of misguided attempts to get my emotional needs met. Looking inward to re-parent myself instead, has been, for the most part, immensely fulfilling. And I’ve even platonically re-connected with some of the people I’d felt wounded by in the past. By practising intentional communication, setting and keeping boundaries in place, and showing up for myself, I’ve been able to heal and grow in way I hadn’t dreamed possible.
My hyper-vigilant self tells me to check in regularly, just to make sure that my fierce independence doesn’t morph into stone, cold self-sufficiency. I’ve been cultivating a community of close and trusted friends who call me out on that kind of hardness, if need be. But honestly, I’m pretty excited for what this path of being single might bring.
Almaz Ohene is a multi-disciplinary writer and creative working across sexuality education, journalism and branding. Much of her work centres marginalised voices, as she’s committed to taking steps to help dismantle all forms of systemic oppression. Find her work via almazohene.com and on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook.
Almaz runs ‘She Dares To Say’ an email newsletter project featuring alternating personal essays by Almaz and guest writers. You can read her most recent essay, where she philosophises about self-knowledge and sex, here. You can sign up to ‘She Dares To Say’ here.
What made me think
Is Justice for Sexual Assault Victims Less Likely for Singles? (Trigger warning: sexual assault, harassment, cancer)
This is an interesting question from Bella DePaulo who admits she hasn’t been able to find any studies to answer the question but nonetheless makes some depressing observations. She writes: “I don’t know of any research that directly tests the idea that female survivors of sexual assault are judged more sympathetically if they have a boyfriend. I don’t know if they are more likely to win their cases. It would be a travesty if they were. But sadly, it would not be surprising. The mere fact of being coupled seems to protect people from much of the prejudice, discrimination, and danger that many single people face. As Joan DelFattore has shown in her important work, oncologists sometimes recommend less aggressive treatments for their patients who are single, thinking that they “don’t have anyone” or they lack the will to live. Belief in the disparaging stereotypes of single people may also help explain the bias to see married people as more deserving of life-saving organ transplants.”
Things you should check out
The Q&A with Sophia Money-Coutts went out over the weekend to paying subscribers. I loved her perspective on being single and the present moment. Subscribe now to give it a read:
How to enjoy being single – lots of food for thought that I will probably come back to!
The conversation about dating apps is annoying me – There is so much good stuff in this newsletter by Tiffany Philippou (and I’m not just saying that as she mentions me!).
The projects shining a light on single parent households – Just lovely!
Experience: I’m a blind foster parent – I wrote this so I’m biased but the woman I interviewed happens to be single as well and she is amazing!
Why Does Netflix Keep Shaming Physical Attraction (And Singlehood)? – Shani Silver reacts to the latest big dating reality show (Sexy Beast on Netflix)
Does being disinterested in children make you a bad person? Author Emma John on hiding her true feelings about kids – I know Emma is not alone in this.
Why I Bought Myself an Engagement Ring as a Single 30-Year-Old Woman – Would love to know people’s thoughts on this!
After a lonely winter lockdown in Berlin, dancing in a club felt like being collectively let free – Feeling very jealous after reading this. I miss dancing.
Cultivating hope: how this charity is using floristry to help asylum-seeking women flourish – just because I love flowers and positive news stories.
Don’t forget to follow me on Instagram if you don’t already!
Loved Elizabeth Day’s response to the YouGov poll that showed men thought women over 36 were too old to be mothers.
Words I love
“When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely, Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person's body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.”
– Elizabeth Gilbert
About me
For those who don’t know, I’m Nicola Slawson, a freelance journalist who lives in Shropshire, UK. If you would like to support what I do, please consider subscribing to be a paid supporter of The Single Supplement. If you would prefer to make a one-off contribution, you can also buy me a coffee, here’s the link to my Ko-Fi page. Follow me on Instagram and Twitter.
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