Lately, I’ve been noticing a strong pull toward seeing a sex worker again.

But something feels different this time.
The desire is still there—but it’s not as sharp, or impulsive, or even very sexual in the traditional sense.

I sat with it for a while and realised something quietly true:

I don’t actually want sex.

At least not the way I used to frame it.

What I Think I Want

Right now, I think I want:

  • A massage
  • Maybe a blowjob
  • Nothing intense. No performance. No expectation to be “dominant” or “masculine” in the conventional way.

That surprised me.

Because as a man, there’s always been this unspoken pressure to want penetrative sex—like that’s the default setting.

But it isn’t. Not for me. Not right now.

What I’m Actually Craving

When I sat with the urge, this is what I found underneath:

  • To be touched without pressure
  • To feel attractive or wanted, even just momentarily
  • To receive softness, warmth, care
  • To not have to do anything back
  • To just exist and still be enough

It’s not about orgasm. It’s about emotional co-regulation.

I want to feel safe in my body again.

What’s Tender Beneath It

The real need isn’t sexual. It’s relational.

  • I’m tired.
  • I’ve carried too much alone.
  • I miss being close to someone without anxiety.
  • I miss connection that isn’t conditional.
  • I miss being wanted for who I am, not just for what I do.

There’s a part of me that still believes:

“You’ll never be loved like that. This is as close as we’ll ever get. Take it while you can.”

That voice comes from the wounded child. And I don’t shame him for thinking that.

But another voice is growing now—the one that says:

“Maybe you can have more.
Maybe you already are creating more.
Slowly. Softly. Honestly.”

Final Thought

This isn’t about judging the urge.
It’s about letting the urge speak clearly, so I don’t have to act on it blindly.

Whether I go or not, I’ll meet myself here again.
Because this is where I’m really waiting to be held.