Tag Archive for CelibacyChallenge

The Most Successful Failure Wins

The Most Successful Failure Wins
The Makings of a Personal Celibacy Challenge

Challenge #4: Mr. Young, Fly, & Articulate

“Your hair is beautiful.”

Four words and I am smitten.

It doesn’t matter that the strands are wind-blown and my eyelashes
are under attack. It doesn’t even matter that this isn’t my real hair.
What matters is the quiet sincerity of this guy’s gentle humanity, his kindness and consideration. This young man is well-groomed and prepared for the best. So, I reward him with a fair introduction – my Instagram name.

He wastes no time.
He follows me. He reads me. He watches me. He learns. He comments. He likes. Then, he finally texts:

What kind of champagne do you drink?

He gets it.

We meet at his place, which is near my place; so, I don’t travel far. We talk and linger in the day-to-day of our routines. Then, we dash through the past, our yesterdays, and last weeks. Finally, our thoughts meet and tap an unspoken code to conduct our unplanned dance throughout the night.

We agree to leave and meet, sip, vibe, and socialize with his friends.
We stare, touch, talk, hug, kiss, and agree to leave, again.
A kiss as the camera on my phone clicks.

Then…
He kisses me again.
The forehead, it’s goodbye.
I go in.
He doesn’t.

Instead he sits, outside my door, on the floor.
He says he’ll wait.
I pray I change.
Then, I change.
Now, we feel the same.
I walk out of my space, invade his, and we lay.

We rub, he licks, and I
close my mind
and open my soul
to a stranger.
Twice.
Almost three times.

But just as the sun rises, I say, “No.”

He says, “You don’t want me anymore.”

His question is a statement.
So all I say is, “I have to go.”

“You won’t call.”

One night and he thinks he knows me or is this his reverse psychology? This guy is good. Good like the devil. That’s why I must go.

It happens so fast, so quick, so seemingly unabashed. Until it hits me… he hit it… I missed it… the mark, the challenge… I failed – privately, but publicly too.

And it’s important enough to share because the shame or guilt lasts only as long as we allow it. Once we push it aside, we announce our new beginning -publicly or privately, our new challenge -publicly or privately, and our new failure -publicly or privately…

But, because God’s love never fails us, our failures don’t have to lead to embarrassment, shame, or a rush to fix the wrong. Instead, the failure can plant a new seed, fertilize our spirit, and strengthen our reach and our growth – privately, but publicly too.

The quicker we fail, the quicker we learn: FALSE.
But, the quicker we succeed, the longer it takes to learn.
So, we fail again and again, until we learn to change.

See, we can’t speed through the lesson, life, moments, people, sex…
and expect to understand any of it at first glance. When we do, we fail. And then, we get right back up, tweak the process and move even faster than we did the first time because now we’re late, embarrassed, or even ashamed. So, we fail again.

To change our failures into successes, we must slow down to learn about our circumstances and the people involved. Then, and only then, are we prepared to change enough to win for everyone around us. (Jeremiah 29) That’s the type of success worth failing for.

So, I will reset my celibacy, resurrect the challenge, and restore faith in God’s power to change someone through my failures and my successes. Failure will never stunt my growth or the growth of my family, friends, or supporters who have grown closer to God through me.

I love you all as I love myself, and God loves us all way more.
Who else will help turn our epic fails into our epic success?

Thanks, Jesus.

Kissing in the Dark

 

 

Kissing in the Dark
The Makings of a Personal Celibacy Challenge

Challenge #3: Mr. Beautiful

My eyes lock in on his biceps when he enters the bar. But for poise, my chair almost swirls to follow him . Luckily, there is no need. After he daps up my photographer, he sits directly across from me. One whiff of his pheromones and I am under attack. My only defense: the uncertainty and curiosity of his sexuality.

Does it even matter?

Nope, not when I’m lusting.

I don’t want to make out with him. I don’t want to date him. I certainly don’t want to marry him.

I just want to watch him.

So, I watch.

The hour passes and just for good measure, I tally the number of women he hugs and fondles. There are four.
The number of hugs and handshakes for guys: zero.
Case closed.

And it doesn’t matter. He bypasses me like most dudes bypass my Instagram.

“You got all of these damn quotes on here. Nobody’s reading that,” he says.
“I’m a writer…”
“Well, maybe you’ll get a few intellectual types.”
“Good.”

Good? That’s what I say. But that’s not what I mean. What I want to say is, “Why am I not attracting you as much as you’re attracting me?” Instead, I continue to watch him. He orders drink after drink and shot after shot. I sip my champagne. Once he’s tipsy enough to accept a FaceTime, the picture becomes clear: he prefers the simple sugar over my raw mixed molasses.

This is never a surprise, but it’s always a buzzkill. It definitely changes the forecast from 100% precipitation to dry skies with a light shower -maybe on the beach at night and definitely in the dark. But this is good because I’m celibate. Right? No, this is great. It’s wonderful. I can wipe the sweat from my breasts and drink more champagne. I can live a little.

“Yo, I have a new limited edition bottle in my place. Let’s grab it and get it in…”
That’s what he says.

I say no. Then, he grabs my hand.
He pulls me in for a group hug with his two lady friends and something changes.

My pheromones are slow to release, but they pierce his Skinny Jeans with vigor . He has no time to retreat. The scent of my skin keeps his hand in mine, his lips in mine, and his body against mine. Finally, I reach the turnstile to La La Land.

I go in.
I caress and kiss- with tongue- and I mean “My Hands on His Bald Head” with “His Hands on My Bubbly Bum” type of tongue.
We go in.

My initial temptation is replaced by distant admiration which probably provokes his new temptation and it is certainly about to lead to my non-celibation… no, that’s not a word. But in these fearless moments of lust, my “write” brain switches back to my right brain and the wrong words I create are the only words left.

Then… without notice…
The kiss ends. The night ends. The possibilities end?

Mr. Beautiful ends up with her, Simple Sugar.
While this Sweet Molasses ends up with a cold shower.
But the beads never evaporate; they only vibrate as I breathe life into the night’s dreamscape .

Hence, I wake. I wake up with anything but fear of my poor judgement. I am stuck in La La Land. I luxuriate in the memories of salacious kisses and throbbing hearts and other body parts. I even tell a few girlfriends, “I made out with a boy who I believed liked boys -and I liked it.” I replay the clips several times and focus on his eyes, his upper lip, and his shoulders. I don’t want to forget.

So what if it isn’t true. So what if it isn’t real. So what if it isn’t with a man who actually wants to be with me, a celibate, beautiful, woman of color who posts quotes and lacks self-control when it comes to chemistry, kissing and licking and sucking… LUST, it’s a fruitless deed of the darkest night disguised as the sweetest nectar of our dreams.

Even after I turn on the lights, I am still asleep. The taste of fawned intimacy lingers long throughout my day. It is not until I crack open the Word that I am completely awakened by Romans 1:24-27. I won’t preach, but read it and know that when you get to know God, he never forgets you. He won’t let you fail as long as you desire to succeed.

But, Success at Celibacy means:
Don’t kiss if you’re celibate.
Don’t tongue kiss if you’re celibate.
Don’t tongue kiss, while holding a bald head if you’re celibate.
And Definitely
Don’t tongue kiss, while a bald-headed man is holding your bum if you’re celibate.

Thank God I’m still celibate.

Sometimes God doesn’t have to say or do anything to show us He loves us.
Sometimes we don’t have to say or do anything besides love Him.

My behavior that night showed no love for God. It probably made Him sad. I kissed a kiss that will never be unkissed. It will last forever to be compared to even the sweetest kisses of the one God sends my way. I followed the lusty desires of my heart. I traded the Truth for a lie. I worshipped the beauty of man, even if only for a moment, over the beauty of the Creator.

Thankfully, He knows me.

He knows that I want to be loosened from the bondage of lust. He knows that I am willing and able to break free but only through Him. And because of this, He will not let me die in my sin. Instead, He will nudge the handsomely kissable men away and send a sisterly soul to say, “Girl, go to bed.”
It’s true, the longer we have to wait for the real thing, the harder it gets to say no to the fantasy. But with faith, He will restore our patience and renew our minds. He might let you walk into La La Land, but He won’t let you get lost in the park. He’s not even the type to hold your hand, but He will give you explicit directions on how to get the heck out of there.
We just have to hear them and Follow Him.

So…
Pray for ’em.
Faith for ’em.
Celebrate for ’em.
And Wait for ‘em..
Those Real Kisses from those Truthful Lips, they are coming soon.

Thanks, Jesus.

Drunken Hot Girls are Not Celibate Forever

The Makings of a Personal Celibacy Challenge

Challenge #2: Mrs. Bottle Girl

The last two Saturday nights led to missing church the last two Sunday mornings. I talked and listened. I drank and smoked. I danced and laughed. I hugged and kissed. And most importantly, I lived.

But after all of that, I laid and cried. I questioned and wondered. I called and listened. I regretted and apologized. I felt like someone had died.

When did the woman with common sense sneak off into the darkness? She was here with me at the first glass of champagne. We toasted to life and longevity at least three more times. We were still together as the next set of glasses clinked between the next set of verses. We sat soul to soul until the first shot of hard liquor pierced our connection. The second shot weakened our bond. By the third shot of tequila – or was it vodka?- we were no longer fastened. The lady in me, my better half, walked away and left me like a pig with a diamond ring in its snout… ugly.

Thankfully, I hadn’t become unsightly in the depths of those nights; although, I have starred in that movie too. But, I know the alcohol had tangled my hair, smudged my blush, and adjusted my waistline in a “drunken hot girl” kind of way.

Those that know me might have recognized the change for what it was. But those that don’t know me, saw beauty in my disgrace. They were intoxicated by my intoxication… aroused by my arousal. They praised my dance and savored my kisses. And, they wanted way more. I did too.

I caressed a chest and grazed an ass. I rubbed an ass and smacked an ass.

Then, I heard it…

“Go home and lock your door!”

I heard it clearly, both nights.

Then, I considered this: God wants me to lock my door… and I don’t think he wants me to do it quietly. It’s time to let some things and some people know that they can’t come in… at least not until God says I’m ready.

Cultivating friendships that lead us astray seems like an obvious mistake. Still, we waste time with ideas and spirits who go against our soul. And fail to make time for wise counsel and honest criticism from those who know us best.

Why don’t we make a better effort to treasure our true supporters, the ones who sharpen our edges, as opposed to the ones who, intentionally or not, dull our blades.

I, Mrs. Bottle Girl, might have missed the mark, and been slow to move because of my satiation; but, I didn’t miss the message: I can’t work towards celibacy sitting at a bar in a strip club smoking shisha and sipping champagne.

Yes, I am a self-proclaimed lover of all things bubbly. But, knowing when to say when needs to come a lot sooner than when God SCREAMS, “When!” We must avoid letting the wisdom we pray for float away with every bubble of fun, no matter the shape or size.

So, my challenge this week is a two-part challenge. First, I must minimize my champagne intake. One bottle per evening on Fridays and Saturdays… and only one to two glasses on any given weeknight… no matter the occasion. And no hard liquor – NO MATTER WHAT.
Second, I must pass on all invitations to strip clubs… no matter how much I want the lemon-pepper wings. Pray for me… I’m serious!

Once I get a handle on the number of things I consume, the places I go, and the people with whom I go, I will be back in church every Sunday morning: listening, dancing, kissing, hugging and living the life God says I was born to live eternally as a single hot woman… Celibate until I’m married.

Thanks,
Jesus.