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When I started this little endeavor, I had an idea of where I wanted to go, forward. But I had no inkling of what was in store for me along the way. Ninety days was my goal, 90 days is what I’ve completed. As I write this final blog to commemorate my accomplishment, I’m sitting on the subway surrounded by people I don’t know and will likely never see again. I’m not cracking open a celebratory beer or downing a “You did it!” shot. I’m not in my living room furiously scribbling words because there is a half-naked woman purring for me to finish and re-enter the realm of the sexually active. No, it’s just me, my pen, a pad of paper and my feelings. This is how it should be. My best friend wrote me suggesting I should celebrate the occasion, indulge myself. Maybe, then I thought about how women take care of house and home for 364 days out of the year, cleaning house, taking care of the children and cooking meals. A man tries it one day, does a half-assed job then expects a damn medal or key to the city. I kept my dick in my pants for 3 months, big fucking deal. I did what I should’ve done years before. It might have saved me and a few other people a lot of heartache. No, there will be no celebration for this feat. Besides, I said countless times before it wasn’t about the sex. If I deserve any type of praise, it should be for trying to be as honest as possible with myself for 3 months, I’ve confronted negative aspects of my personality, questioned the motives behind my actions, dived into the murky depths of my insecurities and looked my oldest fears directly in the eye…publicly. You know, when I put it like that, guess I do deserve a pat on the back. Actually, a hug would be better. I’m partial to hugs these days as I have so little physical contact.

So, this may seem a bit anti-climatic to some, but as I keep reiterating, this is a journey. No prizes are handed out to the participants of a marathon halfway through the race. They are only offered encouragement to continue on until the end. In fact, I see these 90 days as a sort of warm-up. Now is when things really begin. Can I maintain my current course while not limiting my exposure to the world at large? In many ways this is akin to the recovering addict who has completed a 90 day treatment center. It is easy to talk the talk in the safety of a clinic with a full-time staff to monitor your behavior. It is another to be out in the real world faced with actual temptation beckoning and resist its siren song. My blog in essence was my treatment center and you the readers the staff. Now, it’s only me. I do thank those who have supported me on this journey immensely. Your words inspired me and were literally the strength I needed to take another step on this path in my moments of weakness. To those that eventually grasped this was a personal narrative and stopped attempting to hijack my story, my admiration. I know intimately how difficult it is not to let ego and pride color ones vision of a person you care about. Finally, to those who never got it and tried to constantly steer me off-road… go kick rocks.

Well, that’s all folks, nothing left to see here but a man, an amazing man albeit, but a man nonetheless trying to live a life, an extraordinary life, but a life nevertheless that expresses and gives love freely and impartially and striving to be the best he can be…one day at a time. Day 90, and it truly begins…