Two feet firmly planted on the ground, let’s talk about this. After completing 12 months of celibacy in 2017 I felt ready to give someone aside from myself, focused attention. I briefly dated someone.

This guy. We shared a love of food and understanding you are what you eat. One time he drove out of his way to deliver me his favourite vegan cinnamon bun. I enjoyed it more by making an impromptu feet video. I had to silence chunks of the video due to music copyright when I originally uploaded it on Instagram. It feels good to make creative decisions that embrace factors out of my control rather than fight against it. Like a healthy bondage session. I welcomed the choppy edit, knowing it was incomplete. God said the video would finish when it was time.

On our final encounter I spent the night at his place. We had sex. He wanted to fuck again the next morning but I didn’t want to. I said no repeatedly. The first question I always get. How did you say no? Was it jokingly? No.

He wouldn’t believe me, wouldn’t stop. Eventually, I was worn down and my brain kicked into self-defense mode. I felt myself turn the body on autopilot and start distancing from the physical. I knew letting him fuck me quickly would free me easier and with less chance of violence than fighting against him. He gave me back a pair of freshly washed sneakers and insisted I take home a bag of coffee grinds he’d never drink. I did not fully re-enter my body until I was home in my room. Staring at clean shoes and feeling betrayed by both him and myself. First guy after a year of no sex and this is who I chose? Never doubt myself. I should have listened to the part of me that was uncomfortable that first date. I played her intuitions down for a mix of reasons. No more.

I kept that coffee as a reminder of the lesson I had learned. I would only open it with the perfect intent. Celibacy has awakened the beauty of patience for quality.

Working on a client project and I come across a DIY scrub recipe using coffee grinds. This is it. I smoke a fat one and say my prayers. It’s freezing outside but I don’t feel anything.

I release this tension from my body through the art of living. I wash myself clean, scrub my feet, rid my presence of your shit. I insert this footage into the silent gaps of the previous cinnamon bun video. Now it’s complete. Affirmation of a process artist, lest you forget.