Anonymous Celebrity

Celibacy. It seems to be glowing in brilliant amber-colored lights on the billboard of my life.

I received a simple phone call this morning from a friend in radio. (Yes, you know who you are.) As my friend, and reader of my blog, he posed the innocent proposition of taking my story live on his afternoon radio show. While I insist that my situation is nothing less than that of a mid-twenty-something female in the world who is just tired of dealing with a slough of men that are the epitome of a personality like Family Guy’s “Quagmire”, I have given him permission to use my story but not to publicize my name or blog.

It is not my individual pursuit but the topic itself that will be the focus of conversation. I hope. My radio personality friend prepared me that there will more than likely be listeners calling in with the regular “it’s because she’s never had a real man like me” comments. I’ve already dealt with those skeptical pigs and am taking this blessed opportunity to declare that it is men like that who make keeping this vow that much easier. My friend has assured me that he would convey that same message. For that, after all, is the fuel behind this burning fire.

Supporters or antagonists there will be in my mission. I guess tomorrow I’ll find out where the city of Eugene stands on the issue. After that, maybe the world?

The only one that it really matters to though is me, and that unknown, my love.

Silence is Ticking

Sometimes I feel like my candle has blown out and I’m searching around in the dark for a match just to get it going again. The flame is temporary and yet somehow it has this magnetic appeal that I’m swept into like a moth burning my precious wings. Then, usually without warning, the flame extinguishes and I’m alone in the dark again. Lost.

I refuse to tout gender generalizations or place blame on anyone here. That is not my purpose. What I’ve discovered is a simple, negative self-realization that I’m determined to defeat. I have no idea what love is anymore. My vision is clouded by physical eroticism blocking that ever-so important emotional and mental bond to form. I’m a serial “sexcapader” or so it seems.

Call it a vow, pledge, oath or promise; it is what it is. The clock started silently ticking the moment I undertook this task. Voluntary celibacy.

It’s too easy these days to be what I used to call myself, a “free-loving-spirit”. There is no such thing in modern society as courting, dating or romance. Nothing is done with any formalized tradition. I’ve not become a prude by any means. I just simply refuse to associate myself or waste my precious time with another male who does not respect me enough to build a solid foundation of friendship, trust, respect and love before sharing with me the intimacies of the flesh.

My lack in posting an explanation earlier can be attributed to my detailed preparation in how to mentally deal with the skeptics. I’ve accepted that there are going to be the people who think I’m doing this simply because I’ve hit a “dry spell” so-to-speak, those who think I’ve lost my bloody mind, others who have taken up a pool to see when I’ll finally crack and then those who find it a complete waste of talent. While I salute everyone in forming a preemptive judgment against me, this pledge is between me and my ever broken heart.

So here I am again, alone in the dark without a flame. I’m no longer looking for matches. I’m search for something brighter. Love.