I haven’t had sex in a long time. A very LONG time. For a while, I felt ashamed of and embarrassed by this. I thought I needed to lie about my sexual experience, and distance myself from or apologize for any sexuality I unintentionally exuded.
But I recently realized something kind of cool. Sexuality can exist without sex. You can embrace your body and sexual appeal without having to fulfill some sexual contract or obligation. You can allow yourself to be wanted and lusted after without having to compromise your personal comfort and sexual boundaries. You can want people to want to bone you without ever needing to engage in said “boning.” Kind of liberating, don’t you think?
The older I get, the more comfortable I become in my own skin. I’m at a point where I can recognize my own limitations and shortcomings while still being able to acknowledge all the good things I have to offer. Yes, I’m a sexually inexperienced person. When I have sex again, it’s probably going to only be 30-45 seconds of slight (or severe) discomfort/awkwardness. But, I’m also allowed to embrace my sexuality. I’m allowed to look in a mirror and say, “Hey Diddle, you’re a relatively fit guy with a cute lil’ butt and a smooth alabaster skin-suit. There are definitely guys out there who’d love to do unspeakable things to you.”
So, to all my friends out there who don’t have sex, but still want to feel sexy:
You can dress provocatively and flaunt your body without being a tease. You can entertain flirting or embrace exhibitionist tendencies without feeling like some sort of sex-less impostor. Sex doesn’t define your sexuality or sensuality. Me never having sex doesn’t make me any less of a gay man. Me never having sex doesn’t make me any less handsome in a pair of tight-fitting floral underwear (DM me for pics, fellas—obvi kidding, please don’t).
So, I’m going to continue to embrace my sensuality in the ways that make me feel good, and take full ownership of my body. I’m going to dress to emphasize my lil’ baby butt, and unbutton my shirts to outrageous levels, and change more slowly in front of hot guys at the gym. And when all that’s said and done, I’m going to go home, turn on the TV and inhale a bag of rice cakes as I binge-watch I Am Jazz.
If I ever want to have sex, that’ll be my choice. But until then, I’ll just be sex-free, smuttily-dressed me.
Is this why I'm still single? 