The Truth About Casual Sex

No one told me the truth before I had a lot of it…

Not the kind of truth that makes it into schoolbooks or locker room talk.
Not the kind whispered at sleepovers under half-drunk breath.

I had to live it.

I had to wake up in someone else’s bed with my soul scraped thin
And my body pretending it hadn’t just memorized a stranger’s breath like a love story.

I had to learn that the body is an altar—
And not everyone deserves to kneel at it.

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They say sex is just physical.
But I’ve felt the aftershocks of a single night echo through my nervous system for months.

I’ve stayed too long with people who weren’t good for me—
Not because I didn’t know better,
But because my cells already believed we were one thing.

Because oxytocin doesn’t understand red flags.
Because dopamine can make a prison feel like paradise.
Because orgasm isn’t just a climax—
It’s a binding contract written in chemistry and signed in vulnerability.

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I’ve watched people confuse intensity for intimacy.
I’ve done it.
Skin to skin before heart to heart.
Bed before truth.

And we call it modern.
We call it freedom.

But what if it’s just another kind of enslavement?

One where we give away pieces of our sovereignty
In exchange for a moment of connection we didn’t earn.

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What they don’t tell you is this:
Sex rewires you.
It maps your memory.
It softens your instincts.
It makes you stay when every part of your logic is screaming run.

And even if you say it doesn’t matter—
Even if you swear you’re detached—
Your body still remembers.
Your soul still flinches.

Because there is no such thing as “casual”
When your nervous system is that involved.

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And no—this isn’t about shame.

I’m not here to condemn the wild.
I believe in sacred chaos.
In lust that tastes like lightning.

But let’s stop pretending we can screw like animals
And not feel like ghosts when it’s over.

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Because real sex—soul-deep sex—isn’t just about climax.
It’s about collapse.
It’s about letting someone so deep into your orbit
That your inner world tilts.

And that?

That should be earned.
That should be sacred.

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So no—sex was never just a handshake.
It’s a soul exchange.
And if we remembered that,
Maybe we’d stop giving our bodies
To people who haven’t even earned our eye contact.