Let’s call it like it is: sex has never been easier. We live in a world where hookup culture is not only normalized—it’s expected. Swipe right, send a few flirty texts, show up, show out, leave. It’s not hard to get physical. We’ve learned how to curate chemistry, drop a pin, and turn desire into a routine.

We’ve built an entire dating culture around being chill, casual, unbothered. We’re fluent in dry texting, emotionally distant flirting, and ghosting as conflict resolution. We know how to share a bed before we share a boundary. And somehow, we’ve convinced ourselves this is safer. That staying cool is more attractive than getting close.

But what we haven’t learned—what most of us are still stumbling through—is intimacy. Real, vulnerable, “see-me-when-I’m-not-performing” intimacy. Sex might get you close to someone’s body, but intimacy asks you to let someone close to your soul. And that is a completely different kind of naked.

The brutally honest truth is…we’re afraid of being seen. Fully. Unfiltered. We fear the moment someone looks past the curated version of us and asks: “What are you really like when no one’s watching?” That’s why sex feels easier. It’s a script. A role. A set of actions we know how to perform, even with strangers. You don’t have to be emotionally available to be physically present. You don’t have to open up—you just have to show up. And for a while, that can feel like enough.

But real connection doesn’t happen when someone touches your body—it happens when they hold space for your mind, your mess, your most honest self. That’s intimacy. And that’s the thing we all secretly crave, even if we pretend we’re too busy, too cool, too independent to admit it.

So, why are we so afraid of intimacy? 

Well, because it demands something from us that sex doesn’t: emotional exposure. You can’t fake intimacy. You can’t filter it. It asks you to show your actual needs, your insecurities, your softness—and risk not being met there.

We’re more comfortable being wanted than being known. It’s easier to be desired for how we look than to be loved for who we are. Because intimacy means surrendering control. It means saying, “Here I am—will you stay?” And most of us are terrified the answer will be no.

But here’s the irony: the more we avoid intimacy, the more disconnected we feel. We wake up next to people who still feel like strangers. We confuse chemistry with compatibility. We mistake closeness for connection. And deep down, we know something’s missing.

So how do we shift? 

Well, we start by being honest—with ourselves, and with each other. We stop performing and start showing up. We practice saying how we feel, even when it’s awkward. We admit when we want more. We stop confusing vulnerability with weakness, and start seeing it for what it really is: the bravest kind of strength.

So yes, sex is easy. But if you’re ready for something more, for something that lasts beyond the night, it’s intimacy that you need to make space for. Until next time x