I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to take a vow of abstinence. There was no big “aha” moment, and there was no plan. After exiting a long-term situationship where I found myself dishing out girlfriend privileges without the title, physical intimacy was the last thing on my mind. I needed time to clear my head, to heal, and to remember what it felt like to be connected to myself again. What I didn’t expect was that this unintentional pause would transform me.
I’ve grown to genuinely love the peace it’s brought into my life. Best of all, I’ve learned not to view it as a punishment but rather a moment to lift up the hood of my romantic life and refill all the areas of my heart that have been running on E for far too long.
Honesty Is the Best Policy
In a world that glorifies hookup culture, I once believed sexual liberation was something I was obligated to lean into — almost like the “hoe-tation” Issa had after breaking up with Lawrence in Insecure (if you recall, that didn’t work for her either). But the first few months of unintentional abstinence forced me to get honest with myself. Casual sex wasn’t empowering me the way I thought it would. Instead, it left me feeling uneasy, unseen, and more disconnected than ever. It didn’t feel good sharing my body with someone I couldn’t fully trust or depend on to be a helpmate. And while I salute women who feel empowered having sex with no strings attached, I had to look square in the mirror and realize that I am not one of them. Sex, for me, is more emotional and psychological than it is physical. And that’s ok.
At first, abstinence felt like a temporary consequence of heartbreak. The guy I had been seeing off and on clearly didn’t want to commit, and each time we’d been intimate, I felt like I was betraying myself. I decided that in order to get a different result in dating, I had to take a different approach. So boom. I took a break from dating altogether, and told myself I’d “get back out there” once I felt ready. But as weeks turned into months, something shifted. Without the pressure to date, perform, or emotionally navigate someone else’s whims, I started to feel an ease I hadn’t realized was missing. My energy felt grounded. My days were quieter. I wasn’t staring at the phone, making up imaginary scenarios about why he hadn’t texted in days. I fell in love with the feeling of having a regulated nervous system, and suddenly, my boundaries felt clearer. It was as though I had finally stepped out of the noise long enough to hear my own thoughts.
Mind Over Matter
Since becoming abstinent, one of the first things I noticed was how much mental space had been freed up for me. I didn’t realize how much time I spent replaying conversations, overanalyzing text messages, or wondering whether someone liked me “enough.” The rollercoaster of anticipation, confusion, and disappointment had become so familiar that I thought it was normal. But with intimacy and dating off the table, I started thinking more about me—my needs, my goals, my emotions—with a level of clarity I didn’t think was possible. I discovered that while I had been placing the blame on the men I dated for being emotionally unavailable, the stone-cold truth was that I, too, was emotionally unavailable. My situationships, like many other areas of my life, reflected that I wasn’t stuck but refusing to move.
Abstinence also helped me rebuild trust with myself. In situationships, I often ignored red flags or my own intuition just to keep the connection going because I was afraid of being alone. Stepping back from casual sex not only gave me the space to figure out what I actually want in a partner, but the reassurance that I will be ok in this lifetime, with or without a partner. I’m more honest with myself now, more protective of my mental well-being, and far more comfortable walking away from anything that doesn’t feel aligned with my highest good.
Physically, I’ve noticed a difference too. My nervous system feels calmer. My body is less tense from trying to decipher mixed signals. I sleep better. I’m more creative. I feel present when I’m spending time with family and friends. And most importantly, I’ve struggled with fewer bouts of depression. I think it’s because I now appreciate the love I receive in all forms instead of questioning my worth just because I’m not receiving it romantically.
Stepping Into My Power
What has surprised me the most is how empowering abstinence has been—not in a restrictive way, but in a liberating, deeply personal way. This choice isn’t about denying myself pleasure or punishing myself for past mistakes. It’s about honoring the version of me who deserves softness, intentionality, and emotional safety.
And as for dating? Of course, I’m still up for taking another swing at it, but probably not for a while. When I am ready to step back on the scene again, I’ll be stepping in with a clearer head. I plan to have conversations with future partners up front about my limits with sex, and I plan to keep sex off the table until we are deeply committed (FYI, abstinence can look different for any given couple). Until then, I’m enjoying the stillness, the clarity, and the peace that comes with choosing myself first. And when intimacy does make its way back into my life, it will be with a partner who meets me with the same intention and presence I’ve found within myself.
In the meantime, I’m sticking with what feels good — and right now, that’s me.