Chastity, that is. It's the new taboo.
August
'Increasingly, my vow has been prompting concern. "Nearly there. Thank heavens - I've been worried about you!" a girlfriend fretted the other day. Everyone agrees that I must be longing for it to be over, and in some ways I am. I have craved sex, but the longer I hold out, the more I want it only in the right circumstances. I almost wish I had longer to go. My vow has become less of a nun's habit than a child's security blanket. It's something to cling to - a reason to say no.
During the course of this year, I have become attuned to other needs: the longing for true intimacy, the desire for a connection capable of enduring across distance and time. I have also let myself go. I've left my legs unwaxed and I haven't bothered to shave my armpits, and beneath it all, my relationship to my body has subtly changed - it feels more my own. In a strange way, it also feels, well, sexier. Possibly for the first time ever, I've no use for the validation of a stranger's appraising gaze. These triumphs make me all the warier of my vow's imminent expiration.'
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