I had a ‘sex divorce’ for an entire year – it fixed my libido and my life

I spent all of 2025 celibate, and I don’t regret a minute of it.

One glorious year spent entirely in my own space, free from the lure of self-esteem-drowning sex; the experience has liberated me in countless ways. Now, after more than a year of swearing off sex, I genuinely don’t understand why incels are so angry. I’ve never felt more at peace with myself.

It’s not as though I desperately needed a break from sex. I’ve enjoyed healthy relationships – both serious and casual – but after my last breakup, which had been a long time coming, I wanted a total disconnect from all the complications romance and sex can bring.

What started as a knee-jerk reaction to the end of a relationship evolved into a deliberate vow I made for myself: a choice that delivered priceless gifts of stronger confidence, deeper self-esteem and far greater clarity about what I want from future connections.

While not inherently awful, my last relationship slowly pulled me away from myself as I became lost in my partner’s needs and deprioritised my own. Triggering the breakup was hard, but it allowed me to breathe after what felt like months of emotional suffocation. My first few months of celibacy were an accident, really – a natural consequence of ending one relationship and having no desire to rush into another.

Then I remembered a friend who had completed nearly five years of celibacy. We met while living as digital nomads in Thailand and, from the moment I met her, the tranquillity seemed to roll off her in waves. She was self-assured and confident, yet still deeply in touch with her sensuality. In the midst of a complicated romance of my own, I yearned for a slice of her inner peace. A few months later, I found myself embroiled in the very relationship that would ultimately trigger my celibacy.

So when the opportunity to rewind time presented itself, I leapt at it. After a couple of months of celibacy beginning in October 2024, I committed to a full year of total abstinence in 2025. I vowed to abstain completely from dating, kissing and sex – no sexual or romantic intimacy for a minimum of 365 days. I made that promise to myself; no 30-plus-year-old, or any girl for that matter, should be making abstinence promises to a man. Gross.

I didn’t want to torture myself, so I allowed self-pleasure to remain in the mix. Maintaining my sanity for the full year felt important, after all. Worried that the pressure of total abstinence might push me to fall off the wagon, I also allowed myself a small caveat: if I happened to connect strongly with someone romantically, I could break the vow.

I assumed I’d find it impossible. Historically, I’ve had the sex drive of a teenager hopped up on testosterone. But to my surprise, it was easy. I deleted all dating apps the same day I made the vow, stopped searching for sparks when meeting new people, and suddenly I was getting piles of work done, becoming stronger than ever in the gym, and forming deeper, more grounded connections with my family and friends.

As the months passed, temptation appeared in small, fleeting moments – meeting someone attractive or sensing a spark. Yet, surprisingly, the part of me that would once have chased those feelings without a second thought stayed relatively quiet. Sure, there were moments of “wouldn’t it be nice if…”, but the serenity of my self-imposed abstinence had no interest in being disturbed by a passing fancy.

Over halfway into my celibacy, I spent four months travelling around Southeast Asia, re-entering a world renowned for embracing intimacy and sexual connection. Yet I avoided falling into the familiar backpacker slut cycle – no judgement, of course; I’ve very much enjoyed that cycle before, and I’m sure I will again. But being utterly removed from shared sexual energy, I was in heaven, exploring some of the most beautiful places on earth with zero distractions.

I stopped obsessing over new romantic interests and whether they might find me attractive. I wasted no time wondering whether a cutie would text me back, whether I was posting the right pictures on dating apps, or whether I could still flirt in person. Instead, everyone I met became more interesting because I wasn’t subconsciously weighing up whether I’d date them. The result? It became far easier to form genuine connections. Over the last year, I’ve built incredible friendships that I doubt would have happened if my celibacy hadn’t reawakened my fascination with meeting new people.

My intimate and sexual energy still needed somewhere to go. It found a happy home in my own brain and body. All the energy I’d once poured into pleasing other people – sometimes resulting in performance sex rather than genuine orgasmic release – was reallocated to pleasuring myself, without having to consider anyone else’s desires.

Over the past year, I’ve had some of the best orgasms of my life – alone. I spent hours dancing with my body, learning its twists and turns in ways I never had before. I learned to meet my intimacy needs solo through meditative self-hugging and sensual touch. My mind felt quieter, my focus sharper, and my energy redirected towards life-building work I’d long neglected – building my career, and healing my inner child.

I don’t intend to keep my celibacy vow forever – I fully expect to break it in 2026, when the right partner comes along – but I will carry the lessons with me for life. A temporary divorce from sex helped repair cracks in my sexual foundation, shaped by earlier abuses, and broadened my worldview.

Life with an intimate partner is wonderful. But guess what? So is solo life – without raging pheromones pulling us off course.