I’m 23, and grew up in a relatively conservative environment. I’m Black and adopted, live in a rural community, had catholic school education for 14 years, and am chronically ill with Crohn’s Disease. I’ve struggled to be independent because of my medical issues, and still living with family hasn’t made it easy to pursue relationships. My family and friends love me, and they accept me for being queer and for all the parts of my identity, but it feels like even after coming out to my folks a couple years ago, I have to wear a muzzle around them and most people.
I’m surrounded by people who love me, but so often I feel like there’s nothing for me here, or that I’m losing myself. Therapy’s been helping, but only so much. I’ve never experienced a kiss or any form of intimacy, and I’m at the point where I crave and yet can’t fathom intimacy. I feel if I told somebody all these things, they’d just leave. I mean, I wouldn’t want to hold them back from being happy, and I worry I couldn’t make them happy.
I’m also coming off of what I think is a porn addiction that consumed most of my life. At Catholic school, I was taught that sex and marriage are only for a man and his wife. I never knew how to feel about it, and for years I tried to convince myself, “if I form a crush on a girl, maybe that’ll lead to me also developing sexual attraction to her.” Of course that never happened, and I started to notice I had crushes on the guys in my class, but I was taught in school that being gay was a bad thing.
Feelings of shame and guilt for my sexuality were also affecting my pre-existing symptoms of Crohn’s, leading to pain. I also had several surgeries in my childhood, and spent most summers doing summer packets and scheduling surgeries as soon as school let out, to hopefully be ready by the fall. And so, feeling so isolated, I became obsessed with pornography. I felt shame for not knowing how to express my attraction to other guys, and believing my health issues were punishment for being gay. I get worried that any guy I could hope to be with would see me as damaged goods. I feel tired, drained, and worthless most days, and I can’t tell if it’s fatigue from my health conditions, or depression and self-worth. Meds I’m on have left me immunocompromised, so I’m apprehensive about hookups, yet I crave them at the same time. I hate how my body looks after years of surgery. I’ve been trying to go to the gym, but even that hurts when I see so many others at the gym who look phenomenal, and I don’t even compare.
I want to experience sex, but I also know I shouldn’t rush into a relationship solely for that. It’s an exhausting repetitive cycle, and I’ve been losing hope lately that I’ve any chance at a healthy and fulfilling sex life. Any time I see or hear about friends or family celebrating their relationships on social media, it’s like a punch in the gut. I’ve talked about some of these insecurities with my therapist, and the shame of my relationship with porn. He’s said it’s understandable why I’d keep looking at porn, having sexual needs like anyone else, but I know that’s just a bit of reassurance and sympathy. I want to improve, but it’s the safest outlet, and it’s the most action I get.
I guess all of this is to ask; what am I doing wrong? Will I ever be able to experience a healthy sexual experience with another man? Am I bound to remain alone and unloved? I just don’t know what to do anymore.
Thanks for your question and for sharing so much with us.
You ended your question with “What am I doing wrong?” I wanted to start by inviting you to consider all the many, many things you are doing to make your life better: being open with the people in your life about your identity, going to therapy, moving your body in a way that feels good to you, pushing back on religious shame, etc. Even participating in our deeply problematic and difficult healthcare system so you can get the healthcare you need is potentially exhausting. Yet you’re doing all these things!
Also – I’m sure you’re aware, this is just a reminder – many of the factors that make your daily life difficult are created by or exacerbated by a greater system and culture that doesn’t respect the lives of people with chronic illness or disabilities or queer people. It sounds like you’re feeling a lot of shame and guilt, but it seems like these are products of your environment and experiences. It can be difficult to reframe shame and guilt, but I’d like to gently remind you they’re not a reflection of your worth. You are, of course, deserving of love and intimacy just as you are! Finding love and intimacy isn’t often easy, but it doesn’t mean you deserve it any less!
While your situation has many moving parts, it seems like your most pressing overall question is about finding intimacy, so let’s focus on that.
Longing for intimacy is not just normal; it’s literally part of being human.
We have an evolutionary-level need for other people in our life. Without this drive to connect with other people (sexually and otherwise) and to actually have sex, we wouldn’t have continued as a species. These drives go deep!
In addition to our intense physical and emotional drives, we are continually steeping in a culture that rewards and is almost fixated on coupledom. It’s not as simple as avoiding a rom-com, either. I’ve even said aloud in a movie theater, “Why is there a love story in the middle of this superhero movie!”
As you mentioned, social media dramatizes this fixation even more. The extreme engagement events (12 people and 12 dogs in tiny matching outfits doing a choreographed dance in front of a rainbow-colored champagne fountain or other such nonsense) are almost easier to ignore than those continual low-key celebrations of romantic love: “My partner brought me a popsicle because I had a sore throat. Best partner ever!” It can start to feel like everyone is in a relationship, and everyone’s relationship is fantastic. Of course, we’re just seeing the highlight reel, so it’s entirely possible — and probably likely — that the relationship we see reflected on social media isn’t quite that amazing. And, just so you know, according to 2020 research from the Pew Foundation, of the lesbian, gay, or bisexual people they surveyed, 47 percent said they were singleexternal link, opens in a new tab.
I know statistics aren’t necessarily consoling, especially in manners of the heart, but I mention this here because sometimes when we really want something (like intimacy, as you’ve described) and are not able to get it, we start to wonder if something is wrong with us for wanting it, or if the wanting itself is the problem. Neither are usually true.
You asked about sexual intimacy specifically, but you also described several ways in which you’re isolated; geographically (living in a rural area), having a chronic illness, being adopted, being Black (and I might add, in a racist world), struggling with religious shame, navigating your identity as a queer person. Even just living with your parents as a young adult can make you feel different and isolated from your peers, and it may seem like everyone is making their way independently in the world while you’re still living with your family.
You do mention having friends, but you also spoke about feeling shame around some of these isolating issues and feeling “muzzled” around them. Could your intimacy needs be partially met by friends with whom you could be more emotionally intimate?
Partly, this might mean figuring out if it makes sense or if it is possible to be more vulnerable with some of your current friends. Sometimes, even pals we’ve known for a long time that we’ve never gotten beyond the sharing funny videos level of friendship might also privately yearn for a deeper connection. You may need to share first, which might not be easy. You can start with small details about how you’re actually feeling and see how your friend reacts and whether they can be respectful and possibly even reciprocate.
You still might need to make more or different kinds of friends, and this can be challenging, especially if you’re not currently in school and have limited energy. Local organizations that meet in person and also alternatively facilitate online participation when you’re having hard/tired days might be ideal.
You might want to:
- Seek out communities where you can connect with others who share similar experiences. LGBTQ+ groups, groups for people with chronic illness, and organizations for adult adoptees all might potentially provide a sense of belonging and understanding.
- Try low-key volunteering for a cause that matters to you. You might not be able to – for example – load 50-pound bags of grain on a truck for your local food bank, but perhaps you could find an organization that would be interested in you teaching a class about a subject that you know a lot about, or you might be able to find short term and one-off volunteer opportunities that could work with your physical capacity. Many communities have clearinghouses for such activities; searching “short-term volunteer opportunities + area name” might yield what’s available to you. And if you’d like to volunteer online, while simultaneously finding some queer community, you could even volunteer right here at Scarleteen!
- Get involved with clubs or organizations for people who enjoy your hobbies or recreational activities. Don’t have any hobbies? Maybe this is the time to try some out! Don’t underestimate the capacity of physical activities (both strenuous and nonstrenous) to bring people together; the internet is full of evidence that pickleball has become a religion in some communities. Physical activities in community might also be helpful because this might allow you to focus on what your body can do rather than how it looks compared to other folks’ bodies.
- Speaking of religion, if you want to continue a relationship with an organized spiritual practice, The Human Rights Campaign foundation maintains a list of religions/denominations and their stance on LGBT issuesexternal link, opens in a new tab. Even some very rural areas have Christian churches that identify as “open and affirming,” Christian code for “we like the gays.” Some queer people who have been shamed by the religion of their childhood never want to set so much as a toe in a church (or other religious building) again, but for other folks, participating in a church that affirms their identity and relationships can be very healing. Churches often have good potlucks, too.
There might also be ways to get more touch in your life without sex. This could be through a functional activity (massage, having the barber shave you or give you a scalp massage when you get your haircut) or an activity with platonic touch built in. One of my favorites is gay square dancing (really!), which has the added benefit of the touch being very intentional and prescribed. It is excellent for those of us who have made worrying about “doing it wrong” into an art form.
You’re describing yourself as having been addicted to porn and that you continue to worry about using it.
I wonder what it would be like to consider your use of porn as a response to unmet emotional and psychological needs (which seems to be the perspective your therapist is suggesting) and then approach it with a harm reduction lens. How does using porn cause you problems, or how specifically does using porn feel destructive for you? For example, you mentioned that it “consumed a lot of my life.” This possibly points to worry about the amount of time you spend interacting with porn. If that’s the case, harm reduction efforts might look like you figuring out how much time is okay for you to spend and then adding some external safeguards (lock away your phone or computer, use time-limiting browser extensions for your favorite sites, commit to not being alone in your room during certain hours) which you could then adapt as needed.
If you frame your porn use in terms of obsessive/compulsive behavior, it might help you explore additional coping strategies. Some people successfully use cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) techniques to address these patterns. If that sounds like something you’d like to try, your therapist will probably be able to suggest some relevant books or even teach you some of the exercises.
One of the drawbacks of using professionally produced porn as your primary fantasy fodder for masturbation is that we can start to slip into believing that sex is, well, easier and simpler than it is in real life. Sex in real life is often awkward and usually requires at least some discussion, and this is true of even pick-up sex (one-night stands or very casual encounters). The good news here is that even though you potentially feel like a late bloomer sexually (although this is potentially less true statisticallyexternal link, opens in a new tab than you might think), you will find that many adults of all ages negotiate awkwardness during sex. Many people – even those with a great deal of actual sexual experience — don’t feel all that experienced. Also each new sexual encounter between two people requires learning the other person’s body, likes, dislikes, etc. While it’s possible to become better at this learning process itself, if someone assumes their experience exempts them from the process and isn’t a good listener with the new partner, their amount of sexual experience becomes a drawback. All that to say: you might feel like you are running very late, but you might be right on time!
You might want to take tiny steps toward the goal of sexual intimacy by focusing on building emotional connections first. Then, trust and comfort with someone can pave the way for physical intimacy when you’re ready.
You don’t mention if you’re using dating or pick-up apps. I’m not suggesting a spin around Grindr is the answer to your struggles. Still, the benefit of using the apps (especially more general-purpose dating apps that are not focused on just pick-ups) is that you can be very specific about what you’re looking for. For example, you mentioned a lack of experience in kissing. It’s entirely possible that there’s some nice guy out there just looking to help someone participate in their first gay make-out session! You can also specify your physical needs, explaining, “I’m immunocompromised, so I need the following precautions…”
Meeting people from apps is, of course, not without risk. You can mitigate this somewhat by meeting in a public place and messaging for a while before meeting to discover any red flags. You can also incorporate the practice of a silent alarm. A silent alarm is an arrangement with a trusted friend who knows where you’ll be. You agree that you’ll check in by a specific time, and if you don’t, they will take whatever steps you all agree on beforehand.
Even if app postings don’t result in meetings, creating a post can still be helpful because crafting it might help you think more specifically about what you want in an interaction and what you’re most worried about. Another benefit of an app posting is that other folks who see you on the app might not reach out at the moment but might also recognize you when they see you in real life, e.g., at a community event. “Oh hey, it’s In Search Of Make-Out Guy! Cool! I’ve been wanting to meet him!”
Meeting potential partners or friends online via social media connections over shared interests is another possible alternative. The safety benefit here is that you can check for mutual friends and see a history of posting to get a better sense of the person.
You didn’t mention whether you’re interested in having receptive anal sex. Since both Crohn’s itself and some of the surgeries to treat the symptoms or manage the damage of Crohn’s can complicate receptive anal sex, it’s worth having a conversation with your GI doctor and your GI surgeon about relative safety for you and any precautions you might want to take, if you haven’t already had this chat. This will be a question they have heard before. Lots of people (including straight people) have anal sex.
If you decide being an anal bottom doesn’t make sense or isn’t desirable for you, there are many other ways to enjoy sexual intimacy with men, including being a top for anal sex, kissing, giving and receiving oral sex, side-by-side masturbation, handjobs, frottage (rubbing penises together), and so much more. You might be surprised what a little imagination and a willingness to talk frankly about desires with a sexual partner can accomplish!
You are not alone in this, even though the nature of having this struggle can lead you to feel very much alone. The disability justice community has been having meaningful conversations about sexual pleasure, body autonomy, and ableism in sex for years, but these chats are just now coming into the mainstream. You might want to check out the work of Eli Clare and Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, both queer-identified writers who communicate compellingly about these issues. Also, Heather Corinna (founder of Scarleteen and writer of the bulk of the content here) is also a disabled person with a chronic illness. So am I!
Building a fulfilling and healthy sex life takes time, and it’s okay to move at your own pace while you find folks who will appreciate you both for your struggles and your strengths.
You’ve already put forth so much effort to help your body work in a productive way for you, to know yourself, and to connect with people around you. If you’re able to keep moving forward, your efforts have the potential to lead you to the connections and intimacy you deserve and desire.
