Interesting, I like to offer the mirror to this as I think it stems from the same roots even if it take a different emotional pathway.
Mind I very likely don’t see sex in the most common acception I read here, I would rather call it intercourse, which is also a bad descriptor, but let’s say, self contained, compartmentalized, self soothing endeavor.
You do that only to please yourself and the other person is a mere mirror that fills the spot so you can take (whether they use you for the same is irrelevant here).
Is not much more than a masturbation with a fantasy and a living prop.
If you are very lonely it can alleviate it to some extent in the moment, leaves you with nothing tough, you may crave the moment but is pouring water in a bottle where the bottom broke.
Sex is instead the physical manifestation of a connection. Does not necessarily need love but it is nourishing, fulfilling and leaves you something, a lot actually. It doesn’t even need intercourse, though it most likely happens, to be sex.
What needs is the "fucking mask" off, even just for the moment is two people unafraid to be themselves, vulnerable and connected.
Then there’s making love which has the above a order of magnitude greater, hard to pinpoint what in few words, picture having sex but with your most intimate self, your soul if you wish.
And no you don’t wish to downgrade when you tasted the real deal, and you can only really taste it when you can let go.
Of course, there’s a drawback. Heights are desired and desirable but the higher you reach the harder the fall if you fall.
Up to sex you are relatively safe, it’s a shared joy (with tendency to lead up, that’s why "relatively safe" if you encore) in the moment, is not taking is sharing, you both feel good and can be self contained or left at that (it might be a good choice if you like the partner but see incompatibilities or red flags).
With love you are screwed. Once it’s given you can’t get it back. (Isn’t a negative. Unless you "fall")
The rarity of it makes it a greater treasure than you probably think, you know often only when you lose it.
My experience was of the first, degrading intercourse kind most of the time, sex was a much rarer experience maybe had with just 2 dozens girls, all potential good life partners weren’t I avoidant and broke by my first betrayal, but that’s what it does to you. And love is only 4.
3 of those betrayed me so that makes me a rather cautious against love
There’s a bias, nonetheless while I can happily live my life with "just " sex , I do want it. It’s worth the risk, that is how "different " the thing is.
The "intercourse " (again misnomer but I can’t call it sex, consider it a nicer replacement for the f verb)? Does not even rank.
That’s easy to get access to someone else pants, is just game, and isn’t that much better than what you can do with your hands.
It’s a necessary step in growing up when you are teenager but I am kind of bored of that bullshit, I see adults thirsty for that with a mix of pity and disgust.
Unfair surely, some people just didn’t follow through and grew up, and sometimes they are willing to trash gold for pebbles.
It’s sad not enraging, but you must take it into account when you meet someone. That’s what I call red flags.
Long winded premise and I have the crystal sea in front calling , so let me cut to the point
I understand the performance and "bad sex" (again according to my premise I wouldn’t call it sex, but let’s don’t make this post the lord of the rings), even horrible sex and you can still go back for more and even search for it because there’s an emotional void and chaos pushing you to find a fix.
I experienced it with my wayward wife, the only cheater I ever allowed back, and for the longest time I wanted to vomit.
Yes I did manage to get it working (harder task than you would in this condition, it’s not natural as it is with a new partner), yes you can get off and seal the deal, yes you can pleasure your partner…. But really I would have had more pleasure in unclogging my toilet from strangers turds with my bare hands than to share my body with this woman.
I did and did and did it again for years because it was expected, part of the performance so I dysfunctionally followed the script. And still wanted to vomit, to die and to get over it asap.
That was betrayal turning love into intercourse, the filthiest one I ever had.
And I went back for it for almost 20 years, except a break when she left me for a couple of weeks for one AP before crawling back, so I had the chance to be with a dozen of girls and discovered it wasn’t sex that broke, it was broken love that made it nasty.
Oh and when she came back the vomitoneter skyrocketed obviously.
So yes, from a different perspective, but I do know what you can do when you are messed up. I believe it since I lived it.
You can do things that you would think are wonderful with little to no joy at all. Or a twisted one.
Ego is truly a thing to thread carefully. Even if I preferr it to be dead.
Killing it was the best thing in my life