I had real penetrative sex for the first time at 38. I enjoyed it, but it didn’t fundamentally change my life. I liked apple pie before and I still like apple pie after.
The funny thing is it wasn’t the first time I had the opportunity. The first two times my body said no. And my body was right.
When I was younger, I thought sex would make me ‘cool’—a ‘Bro’. I grew up watching James Bond, grew up Catholic where sex wasn’t talked about. My father loved me but didn’t have the skills for that conversation. So I figured it out through movies, porn, friends. Some of my friends in their late 20s were successful men with a lot of sexual experience. I wanted to fit in, to finally be accepted.
Being a ‘virgin’ carried cosmic shame. I assumed that being a man meant I should be able to perform anytime, anyplace, with whoever. When my body said no that first time, I doubled down. Doubt crept in about my sexuality, which made everything worse.
Then it clicked: I didn’t want any partner. I needed a partner who would be okay with my lack of experience.
I started talking openly about it on dates. When I got disapproval, I moved on. The solution wasn’t lowering my standards—it was the exact opposite. I realized how much I had to offer. I’d spent years learning self-regulation. Sex, compared to that, is actually easy. I was right.
Here’s what I didn’t see for years: I was offering the women I dated safety and emotional connection, but I never thought I required the same. I need transparency, communication, trust, time. Longer foreplay in the beginning. With those things, everything works.
That’s it. That’s what I learned.
I love Life and Life definetely loves me
Life Loves Me 