Are we becoming a sexless society? While it might sound like a wild thought, self-imposed celibacy is now a thing, spearheaded by weary Gen Z’s who are asking ‘what’s the point of sex when so much can go wrong?’ Our guest writer and go-to ambassador for Gen Z Megan Watts shares her thoughts on why celibacy is on the rise.
I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve attended a girls night and been told of my friends’ proud celibacy. “It’s been six months today – cheers to that.” “Ugh sex? Sounds like so much hassle. I’ve been without it for months!” One of my friends even showed me a sobriety style app that she uses, which tracks her progress since cutting herself off from her addiction: boys with commitment issues.
But what does this mean for procreation, evolution and, most importantly, our social lives?
Have we as a generation of girls given up on the frivolity of one night stands and handies in the bathroom? Are we instead prioritising our “self-care” through meditation, reformer pilates and swearing off intimacy? As a Gen Z who hasn’t given up on the old-as-time, messy courting ritual, I investigated.
Sex, while littered with complexities and nuances, is supposed to be positive. It’s not called “a good time” for nothing. But as I enter my mid-twenties, the general taste for one night stands and dalliances has left a sour taste in girls’ mouths.
I’ve heard a handful of nightmare Tinder stories straight out of a horror film, so off-putting that I can hardly put them in writing for fear of worsening our faith in casual sex. And as someone who enjoys the classic fuck-and-duck dance, I’ve had my fair share of ugly ones too.
The other night, I was enjoying some casual philandering when my chosen partner littered me with names such as “dirty slut”, “disgusting bitch” and, my favourite, “his special little whore.” I just want to be called a goddess, make love under the moonlight and be spooned to sleep. Instead, I leave with the feeling I should go to church again or book another session with my shrink.
One of my best friends has already decided on a life without men. In her ideal world, she lives in a commune of women, raising children born of sperm donors and a mother’s love. She has her own veggie patch, a community of support and respect and an understanding that the opposite gender and sex is not worthy of a lifetime commitment.
Mating, once considered a basic instinct, is now a dish served cold and a course we’re willing to forego. It’s an overpriced dessert that’s void of sweetness.
What once could be giggled over at lunch – eliciting a few judgemental stares from afar and high-fives around the table rewarding vulgar profanities – has instead become content preferably shared in a therapy session and is replayed in our minds like exposure therapy.
Thoughtless bonks in the bathroom are a thing of the past – now we’re left with PTSD and a yearning for the fun, frivolous days of our youth aka two years ago.
So what has changed?
Across the board, women are hanging up their six-inch heels and lacy thongs for nights in with a bit of Love Island and last night’s leftovers. Even the spicier nights involve a mild butter chicken curry takeaway and a romp with ye old vibrator to John Mayer’s greatest hits – if this were a feature film, it wouldn’t even need a PG rating. But it’s a guaranteed green tick. Can the same be said for a one night stand?
In Auckland, it seems that every club that closes is replaced by two reformer pilates studios in the vicinity. Town is now a conglomeration of freshers and over-priced drinks – both repellants in the latter 20s party scene. But is it the lack of cool places to go that has us huddled in doors over the weekend or is it our newfound hermitude that has seen chic party spots close their doors? What came first, the chicken or the egg?
COVID-19 left an ever-present mark on the partying and hookup scene. Two months indoors with Netflix and no physical contact was a hard one to shake – and some people still haven’t. Plus, with a cost of living crisis at our doorstep, the money and stress that goes into a night on the town is often lumped into the “not worth it” pile.
In the visual sphere, porn has changed the face of what people think is “normal” when naked. As we turn to the platform for sexual pleasure, we are inundated with aggressive sex, every kink under the sun and a false understanding of what women actually want. And while I can’t speak for all women, I can speak for a large majority when I say we don’t want to be punched in the face while being traumatised with cruel names.
But another scarier statistic is floating the sphere that is cause for concern. More and more women are actually scared to enter the dating scene. In a recent US survey, 53 per cent of women reported experiencing sexual assault. In a UK study, two out of three women aged 16 to 34 experienced one form of harassment in the last 12 months. If these were statistics for surgery, we would think twice before going under the knife. And it seems that is exactly what’s happening in the dating world. We’re pulling back.
When spending a night with the opposite sex feels like a threat to your wellness, at what point do we start recognising that changes need to be made?
Meeting people, getting intimate and opening up with them shouldn’t be a process that feels unsafe. But alas, in the name of self care, we retract into our wellness routines and shirk off intimacy’s brash touch for “safety reasons” – and that says a lot.
It shines a light on a greater worry in the modern dating world – people would rather be alone. Whether that’s a commentary on the current dating pool or the fading popularity of monogamy, who knows. But self-care is no longer a face mask and a film. It’s staying away from the opposite sex.
Perhaps, instead of focusing our thoughts on why women choose celibacy, we should instead rephrase the question: why is celibacy a more widely-chosen option than sex? It may bring to life the reality that it is not the agency of a generation that puts celibacy into play but rather an environment that has breeded it as a defence mechanism.
Until I can fuck a man in the bathroom without the fear it may turn threatening, I’m sticking with my gals on this one. Celibacy does more for our wellbeing than any pilates membership could. And until we can ensure a safer world to fool around in, maybe it’s the way to go.
