Being an Adult Virgin—a term often used to describe people who have not had sex into their late twenties, thirties, forties or later—can feel particularly isolating, especially for men. It’s the shame of an internal critic that whispers, You should have had sex by now.
Adult virginity is not the kind of story often told aloud. It tends to sit in the shadows, shrouded in self-criticism, and painful comparisons. Sometimes there is fear of sex or fear of dating. Some men think that reaching their 30s or 40s without sexual experience is a mark of failure—something that doesn’t fit the script of how masculinity is supposed to unfold.
Messages absorbed from schoolyards, media, pornography, or family often say: real men are confident, experienced, and desired. And if you’re not? You must be doing something wrong.
Men are harshly judged for not having sex—yet rarely offered space to talk about it. And the world expects men to perform, but not to process.
But this story—this internalised shame—does not define you. It’s just one thread in your life. And like all stories, we can gently examined it, challenge it, and rewrite it.
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The Harmful Idea of ‘Virginity’
Before going further, it’s worth questioning the concept of virginity itself. Virginity is not a clinical term or a measurable state—it’s a cultural construct, shaped by patriarchal and moralistic ideas that do more harm than good.
The notion that someone moves from being an adult virgin to being sexually experienced—in a single, irreversible moment—erases nuance, consent, choice, and the complexity of intimacy. The concept of Virginity reinforces the idea that worth is tied to sexual activity—which it isn’t.
As this ABC article explains, those in power have long used the concept of virginity to shame, or categorise people—particularly women, but also men who don’t align with rigid sexual expectations. It’s time we let go of this outdated frame.
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Mark’s* Journey from ‘Adult Virgin’ Towards Intimacy
Mark* came to therapy in his mid-30s. He had never had sex, never kissed anyone, and had rarely touched another person outside of family or sport. He described himself, quietly, as an adult virgin.
Mark’s parents raised him in a religious household where sex was considered dangerous and dirty. They discouraged Mark from getting close to women. Intimacy with men was taboo. No one showed Mark how to explore, to flirt, to wonder. His body was something to control with discipline, not his to celebrate and enjoy. By adulthood, he carried a deep sense of inadequacy and the growing fear that he might be too far gone.
But he hadn’t given up. That mattered.
In therapy, we didn’t begin with talking about sex. We began with his story—how masculinity had been modelled to him, the roles he had been expected to play, and the man he hoped to become. Through dialogical therapeutic conversations, we created space for other truths to emerge: the boy who was afraid, the man who was curious, the human being who longed for touch without shame.
With time, Mark began deconstructing inherited beliefs about sex, pleasure, and worth. With my assistance, he started questioning the sexual shame he had been carrying for so long. He also became curious about his attraction to men—something he had never voiced before. Slowly, bravely, he experimented. Eventually, he experienced consensual sex with another man. To his quiet surprise, he enjoyed it.
Sex didn’t fix everything for Mark. But it helped him feel more whole, less ashamed, and more connected.
Masculinity and the Fear of Being Left Behind
For many men, the idea of reaching midlife without sexual experience isn’t just awkward—it feels humiliating. This is the legacy of rigid gender roles. Our society expects men to initiate, to know what to do, to be the ones who lead.
As a boy, your parents and teachers may have taught you that sex was shameful. Now, as an adult, the absence of sex feels shameful. It’s a cruel paradox.
But what if they never gave you a map? What if you never had a guide?
Dominant cultural stories rarely allow for late bloomers—for men shaped by religious guilt, trauma, neurodiversity, shyness, or deep fear. These stories assume that sexual and emotional development unfolds in a predictable way. But it doesn’t. A background of religious conditioning or the absence of opportunity to explore sexuality can contribute to a fear of intimacy.
For some men, pornography becomes a coping mechanism—a way to momentarily escape feelings of loneliness, rejection, or inadequacy. When intimacy feels too difficult or out of reach, porn can offer a safe, if ultimately unsatisfying, substitute. Over time, this can deepen shame and isolation. Some men even describe developing porn addiction.
In narrative therapy, we ask questions like:
> What ideas about manhood and sex have shaped you?
> Which of these are still helpful—and which have become painful burdens?
Often, men discover the critical voice inside them isn’t really theirs—they inherit it. And it can be questioned.
Therapy can be a place to turn down the noise that condemns you as ‘too late’. To find a gentler language for desire. To begin where you are.
As an Adult Virgin, It’s Not Too Late
If you think of yourself as an ‘adult virgin’ and you’re reading this and feeling the tug of recognition—know this:
You are not broken. You are not alone. There is no shame in having not yet had sex as an adult.
There is only the life you’ve lived so far, and the life you still want to live.
Working with a therapist who honours your pace, your questions, and your values can support you to take the next step—whether that’s getting curious about attraction, building comfort with touch, or opening to emotional connection.
Performance anxiety is a common fear for men. Some men also experience what’s called retroactive sexual jealousy—distress or comparison about a partner’s sexual past. This can be especially painful for men who’ve had little or no sexual experience of their own. Therapy can help untangle this kind of jealousy, so it doesn’t sabotage closeness or self-worth.
This is not about rushing. It’s about remembering that your story still belongs to you.
Take a Small Step Toward Connection
You don’t have to dive in the deep end. Therapy can help you dip a toe into the sea of human intimacy. To explore at your own pace. To unlearn shame, face fears, and move toward touch and connection.
Everything changes with a single step. The first act of courage is often booking the first session.
If this speaks to you, I invite you to reach out to me. You deserve a place where your story can be held—with care, without pressure, and without shame.
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I offer online counselling for individuals around the world and face to face in Surry Hills / Darlinghurst in Sydney.
You don’t have to take this journey alone.
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*Not his real name and story used with permission