How I embraced sologamy, the concept of marrying yourself

My first “boyfriend” arrived when I was 15. She left me two days after our “first kiss”. He tells me that in the meantime he kissed another girl.

My first “real boyfriend” arrived when I was 16. I left him three years after our “first time” because I didn’t love him anymore. He writes me a long letter to explain that I’m a slut.

My third “lover” arrived when I was 19. He abused me psychologically, verbally and physically for years. After I left him and disclosed the abuse, he blocked me on social media.

My last “companion” arrived when I was 23. I am developing chronic vulva pain and we can’t “make love”. He complains that his penis suffers from lack of penetration.

A contrasting return to celibacy

When I’m 24, it’ll be over. I’m single again. I think I’m heterosexual. I run after men. I meet dozens of them through dating apps. I go out to party and bring strangers back into my bed. I urge them to penetrate me and love me, but it is a failure. My vulva still hurts. I have multiple urinary infections and vaginal yeast infections. I get attached to people who run away from me. I await each of their signs of life with great concern. I complain about being single and I’m unhappy about it.

At the same time, the #MeToo movement, which took hold in 2017, taught me that I too had experienced sexist and sexual violence. I remember past attacks. From the partner who silently removed the condom during sexual intercourse, without my consent. About my 19-year-old “lover” who threw a suitcase in my face in the middle of the night while I was sleeping at his house.

Read also: How I survive men hikers : my first month in the Pyrenees

My discovery of sologamy

#MeToo does not deter attackers. In March 2018 I suffered an attempted rape in the bathrooms of a Parisian library. In September, a colleague sexually harassed me and I left my job after reporting it. I develop a phobia and hatred of men. I avoid them as much as possible and train in feminist self-defense. More and more associations offer courses and internships in various French cities. The day I learn to knock out a human being, react to verbal abuse, and free myself from a chokehold, I find strength. I go out into the street and I’m no longer afraid. I suffer less and less harassment. I exude a self-confidence that scares away attackers, at least temporarily.

In my private life I discovered the concept of “sologamy”: women get married, in North America, and claim their celibacy. I too am spending more and more time alone. I live alone, work alone, travel alone and masturbate alone. I invest myself in my friendly and family relationships. I create a podcast “for singles who don’t need anyone”, which I rightly call Sologamy. Hundreds of strangers write to me to thank me and testify to their celibacy. The episode in which I question the author Ovidie about his sex strike is a success.

Politicizing my uniqueness

Years pass and I gradually free myself from chronic pain in the vulva (this disease is called vestibulodynia) and emotional dependence. I become less and less attached to the few men I sleep with. I’ve worked on myself for a long time with books, podcasts, psychologists and friends only to discover that no, I don’t need them. I don’t want to be in a relationship, share my apartment, or have children.

This long journey into celibacy – almost five years today – allows me to question my so-called heterosexuality. I understand that I am pansexual and not straight. I have always been attracted to people regardless of their gender. I’ve had affairs with women since elementary school… I’ve always presented these relationships as fun, “jokes”even though I really liked them.

I haven’t gotten married yet (that’s quite a budget). But I created a podcast, started a walking tour of France, and moved to Cherbourg, Normandy, without a partner by my side. I uninstalled dating apps from my phone a long time ago. I don’t flirt with anyone anymore.

My sologamy allows me time and mental space that I dedicate to reading, writing, sleeping, exercising, cooking, having ideas, and traveling. I painfully remember the hours, days, weeks (years, in fact) I used to spend thinking about men, interacting with them, and discussing these relationships with my friends. Our sexist and capitalist society requires us, little girls, to find Prince Charming to complete our existence. But he doesn’t exist, anywhere.

Sologamy saved me from gender violence and heterosexuality as a political system. It forced itself on me, for my mental and physical health. And today I’m fine.