Sex Diaries: I Shut Down When People Want Me Back

The first time I tried to have sex, it didn’t happen. RM couldn’t get in. I was too dry, too tense, too everything. We tried again, two more times, and each time, it was like my body hit a wall. I liked him. I wanted to be there. But something inside me wouldn’t let go. 

It was strange because, before those moments, I did feel desire. I’d think about sex constantly, before seeing him, even after. But at the moment, once his hands were on me, once we were kissing, and it started moving towards sex, I would check out completely. My brain would either race with a million anxious thoughts or go blank. It never felt good. Not even neutral. Just… off.

I didn’t know what was wrong. Was it fear? Religious guilt? The pressure to perform? Every time I brought it up, someone would say, “Just take your mind off it,” but I couldn’t. Take my mind off what? I wanted to enjoy sex and to feel what everyone else seemed to feel so easily, but no matter how much I wanted to be touched, whenever it happened, I felt like I was watching myself from the outside.

RM and I had been in a thing, if you could call it that, for four years. We lived in different countries, so we didn’t meet in person until last year, but we’d been talking for years. Long voice notes, flirty chats, small fights, and dramatic reconciliations. He wasn’t my boyfriend, more like what the kids call a situationship. 

I only ever really want the people who don’t want me back. The ones who ghost, who withdraw, the people who give me breadcrumbs. That’s when my heart starts racing. That’s when I become obsessed. Love starts to feel like a game, and I want to win. I want to be chosen. Not because I like them that much, but because being picked feels like proof I’m enough. Despite everything, I’ve never actually had sex, because as soon as someone wants me enough, and I can feel it, something in me shuts down.

The first time we met, I was nervous. But there was chemistry. He looked at me hungrily, the same way he always had through video calls. He moaned in my ear when we made out, told me how much he liked it, how much he’d wanted me. And I tried to believe him. I tried to match the energy. But even then, I felt myself shrinking inside my body. My hands moved because they were supposed to. I kissed back because I thought I should. But the more it escalated, the more disconnected I felt. Like I was borrowing someone else’s body for the night. 

What confused me more was that I had wanted it. I’d fantasized about him. I’d pictured the moment for years. So why did I freeze? Why did it feel like an obligation, even when I thought I was ready?

Sometimes I wonder if it’s about orientation. I think I might be attracted to women. I’ve had crushes and I’ve imagined things. But the few times I’ve had sexual experiences with women, the same thing happened. I feel no pleasure, I just freeze. It’s like something inside me shuts down when people desire me.

And I hate that. I hate that I don’t know how to just want without shame or strategy. For me, sex feels like a test I keep failing. I hear my friends talk about orgasms, pleasure, and connection, and I smile along, but deep down I wonder if I’ll ever get there.

Names  have been changed to protect the identities of the individuals mentioned.