My past is riddled with casual sex. I’m not exempt from doing it now, I just have a whole lot more insight into my patterns. Since I’ve made the same mistakes countless times, I now see that casual sex never brings me what I really want and instead it’s always sure to leave me feeling worse.
- Casual sex isn’t wrong, it’s just not for me. I’m not throwing shade at casual sex. I’ve just found that it does absolutely nothing for me but bring more pain. Some people may be able to do it without consequence, but I’ve learned the hard way that I’m not one of those people.
- The theory that casual sex doesn’t work for me has been thoroughly tested. I’ve had my fair share of casual sex. I’ve used the excuse that my hormones are raging so I just need to get laid. I’ve told myself all sorts of lies only to sleep with someone then get incredibly hurt again and again. I’ve done it enough times that I’ve now made it clear to myself that casual sex will never be a healthy option for me.
- I can’t lie to myself. Even when I tell myself I’m just in it for the physical needs being met, I’m lying to myself. In reality, I want to be close to a person. I want lasting relief. And I want someone to stick around after we’ve slept together. For a while, these desires weren’t conscious, but after being hurt by my own choices too many times, I realized that casual sex is never actually my end goal.
- Rebounding is especially troublesome for me. Not all, but much of my casual sex has happened after I’ve been hurt by a relationship ending. I don’t want to feel the pain of what happened between an ex and me, so I used someone else’s body to escape. It never ended up making the situation any better. Instead, I was just left with muddied feelings, more confusion, and a thick layer of self-loathing for bringing another person into my mess.
- The emotional hangover almost feels physical. I’ve had plenty of sickening physical hangovers from alcohol. Sleeping with someone casually almost has the same exact effect on me. There’s an emotional hangover the next day that leaves me feeling heavy and filled with regret. I consider this sickening feeling to be a cue from my intuition telling me that something wasn’t right about what just happened.
- I have a trauma history, inevitably complicating matters.According to the U.S. National Center for PTSD, 50% of women experience a traumatic event in their lives. Trauma is unfortunately more common than we care to talk about. Some of my trauma took the form of sexual assault or rape, really making things difficult in the bedroom. I’m now highly sensitive as a result of experiencing incidences of non-consensual sex. Sleeping with people I don’t have emotional intimacy built up with left me feeling unsafe and traumatized, no matter how much I wanted to tell myself I was okay.
- I can’t make sex feel unemotional. Some people may be able to separate the emotional and the physical, but I’m not one of those people. My body and emotions are deeply connected, and no matter what I do, I can’t separate the two.
- Sex is sacred to me. I feel I’m sharing my mind, body, and spirit with another person when I have sex with them. To me, sex is a deeply spiritual experience, sharing our energy. When I do this with someone I hardly know or someone who’s just going to walk away after, I’m left wounded. I feel like a piece of me missing and I have to put the pieces back together alone.
- I’m done deluding myself about casual sex maybe someday working for me. I hope I’m done getting caught up in the delusion that this time I can finally have casual sex without consequence. Experience has proven that there’s never been a time where I only wanted sex. Ever. I need to watch for that lie and instead focus my attention on what I’m really looking for: a kind and loving relationship. Jumping right into bed with someone isn’t going to meet my deepest desires.