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  • Writer's pictureEmily Ainscough

Dry January

Updated: Feb 1

I want to say that I’m sorry it has been a while since my last post, but I’m not. I’m loving writing this blog and sharing the stories of what I’ve learnt and the funny, awkward and largely graceless process of learning them… but I did need a break. 2022 taught me to bend and bloom with the seasons and to appreciate all stages of the natural cycles of life. In that light it was fitting that as Christmas curled up onto our laps and we all retreated with sleepy smiles to our families, our friends and ourselves; that I too

took some time away from it all and remembered that not every moment needs to be documented. Some special moments of silliness, love, failure and joy should be kept private without the hurried need to catch them. So, I did a lot of that whilst I’ve been gone.

And now we’re here, at the foot of a new year! I haven’t a clue yet what this year will look like… isn’t that magical! And just like I’m a new woman now than the one who sat sulking in bed with COVID a year ago, I’m so happy at the thought of spending the next twelve months slowly moving and changing shape into the woman I’ll be at the end. My only real resolution this year is to swim more, because I love swimming; but even that isn’t set in stone. In the past I have made lists the length of War and Peace on my phone notes of all the unreasonable demands I would hold myself too, all the while knowing deep down that I wouldn’t, and thus committing myself to more reasons to be disappointed with the struggling woman that is me. I wish I knew then that all that ‘self-improvement’ was just lipstick on the pig of self-hate. I wish I knew then that the only real resolution I needed was to listen to myself, not to judge her, and meet her with love. But it’s alright that it has taken me a little while to learn that lesson, big things take time, and I’m lucky that I had that.

As for the sex and the love? For the first time maybe in my whole life, that feels far away from me right now. Not in a bad way at all. I haven’t had sex in a while now, and after a suitable period of frustration I’ve started to listen to this sexual season in my life and appreciate it. I don’t know how long it will last, but I won’t hurry it. I’ve been learning just as much about my sexual-self from not having it, as from having it. And instead of letting my libido lead me down every romantic rabbit hole pretending that it’s love (when I really know that it isn’t) I’m starting to think about who I want to be with, long term. What kind of person I want to share my life with, what values are important to me, which characteristics I’m curious about, and which scare me. I thought I was ready to commit to somebody and have my epic love story right this second (and I’ve thought that since I reached puberty!) … but I was wrong to be impatient. I’m open to it, of course, but I know in my heart now that the more I learn about myself the closer I will be to making those big decisions in a kind, true and durable way. Today I know more about Emi now than ever, and that knowledge has shown me just how much further I have to go.

That's not to say I'm suddenly some kind of life-skills robot with everything together and no personality. I’m still impulsive, still romantic, still silly and sexy and disabled and all of those other things that you know me to be, but this year I feel new green leaves sprouting from my fingertips. They are telling me to spend time in the quiet, to be curious and to learn.

I wouldn’t be too disappointed, readers. I’m sure there will be plenty more car-crashes to giggle at on this journey with me too, but there might just be something bigger that we learn along the way. So, whether my January stays dry and reflective, or wet and wild, I’ll be sure to carry on spilling the tea with you all over our virtual catch-ups. (I really see these blogs as the kind of hangover brunch at Wetherspoons everybody goes to the morning after a party for a debriefing. Lots of chips, smudged eyeliner and the strings pulled down on your hoodie to keep out the light.) And if AI takes over producing all content, I promise it won't be able to fake the sheer volume of my embarrassing dating moments and chronic oversharing, so you can still check back here when you fancy a good cringe!

And I mean, I'm out here searching for something that I don't even know for sure I'll find! This true love that has me up all night... I don't know if I’ve had it and it’s gone, if it’s somewhere yet to come, if there will be lots of it dotted throughout my life in different mini love stories or if it isn’t on the cards for me at all! But I’m putting my faith in it anyway. So have a shot of leftover Christmas Unicum with me now, to a mystery as rare as the unicorn that ejaculated this Hungarian spirit – This one’s for True Love. (And f****ng… God, I miss the f****ng.)

See me back here next week for a fun little strut down memory lane, 2022: Condoms Unwrapped, where I will look back on some of the highlights, and the lowlights, of my dating year.

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