Two years ago today, I slept with my ex. This was not a good idea; I shouldn't have done and afterwards I wished I hadn't. At this stage, though, it doesn't really matter: just more water under the bridge. I finally cut all contact with her almost six months later; something I should have done when I tried to leave her that January. I still don't know whether her behaviour to me when we were still together could be considered abusive or not; certainly some of the ways she manipulated me after that fit the pattern. Nonetheless, I don't think she ever really meant to harm me and I hope she's doing better now than she was. What is for certain is that we are both much better off without the other.
I only really bring this up because that night two years ago was the last time I had sex with anyone.
Obviously this isn't the longest time I've gone without sex. I lost my virginity very late, so the first thirty years of my life were spent without ever putting my dick in another human. But this is the longest 'dry spell' I've had since then. The next runner-up was the (roughly) ten months before meeting my most recent ex. I had spent quite a lot of that time suspecting that maybe the evening of lacklustre sex that proceeded it might turn out to be my last. Given the disaster that was the relationship that followed, it might have been better if it had been.
I mentioned in a previous post here that it isn't just sex that I'm missing. I do miss sex very much, but even more than that I miss the intimacy and connection that are, for me at least, an essential part of a sexual relationship. In which case, perhaps marking the time since I last copulated is actually fairly meaningless. But it is at least a clearly defined occasion, whereas exactly when the relationship ended is hard to pinpoint given that leaving was a gradual, convoluted process that took nearly eight months.
So I guess two years of dry-dick is as good an an anniversary to note as any.