there should be no age limit on being a slut

for the late bloomers

there should be no age limit on being a slut.

this is not a hot take…it’s just the truth.

there’s an entire genre of substack essays that circles this idea of “it’s not too late” or “you are exactly where you’re supposed to be” like even i’ve written about it before on here.

but so much of that conversation centers on:

• career milestones

• creativity and self-expression

• building new life chapters after heartbreak or loss

and while i fully agree (because it’s never too late to go after the life you want) i’ve noticed that same encouragement rarely extends to sexual exploration.

there’s this societal invisible pressure to settle down once you hit your late 20s or early 30s. it starts to feel quietly frowned upon if you’re still going out…dating a lot…hooking up with different people…like sexual freedom has an expiration date. as if by a certain age…you’re supposed to have it all figured out and neatly wrapped in a respectable monogamous bow.

but here’s the thing: we evolve…constantly.

our desires change.
our bodies change.
our boundaries change.
our relationship to intimacy changes.

i’ve been dating a lot more these days (with no desire to settle down anytime soon) and sometimes that feels quietly at odds with the world around me. a lot of my friends are getting married and having babies…and my parents keep lowkey (highkey honestly) hinting at when i’ll “start my own family.”

but the subtext is always the same: shouldn’t i be done exploring by now?

(source unknown)

i remember when i lost my virginity. i was 20. and honestly…i rushed into it. i felt so insecure about my “progress” (or lack of it) and because so many of my friends had crossed that milestone in high school…the insecurity around it had been quietly eating away at me.

i was at a party my sophomore year of college and met this guy who i later found out was interested in me…and so i made a move. next thing you know i was back at his place hooking up with him…all my actions rooted in a place of internal pressure than actual desire.

at the time…my feelings around intimacy were complicated: i was just starting to realize i liked women…but i wasn’t ready to fully name or explore that yet. part of me still felt like i should want men…that having sex with a guy would somehow validate me or make everything less internally confusing (little did i know that beyond this night my sexuality would continue to evolve and remain relatively complicated for years to come). and then on top of that (like i mentioned) was this nagging sense of being "behind"…like if i just got it out of the way, maybe i’d finally feel caught up or more certain about who i was.

he was super respectful and did nothing wrong on his end…but i remember waking up the next morning feeling hollow and disconnected from myself. i just couldn’t shake the feeling that i had so willingly given my body to someone i barely even knew…just to check off an arbitrary societal milestone.

in hindsight, i wish i had waited until it actually felt aligned with what i wanted (and not what i thought i should want). i rushed into it because i didn’t want to continue being seen as naive or inexperienced…and it didn’t make me feel any more secure in myself. if anything…it left me with more questions than answers about my relationship to intimacy as a whole.

which is why i find it so frustrating that we treat sexual discovery like something that’s supposed to be wrapped up by our mid-twenties: as if the window for figuring myself out should close just because i’m a little older now. but exploring my likes and dislikes isn’t a phase i just grow out of.

i think about the golden bachelor (which absolutely crushed in ratings) and how it pushed this same message into the mainstream: that it’s never too late to reenter the world of dating with fresh eyes. to be honest i didn’t really watch it…but i found the whole concept incredibly refreshing, because it reminded people that romance, attraction, and curiosity don’t have an expiration date.

you know those corny motivational graphics that say:

“so-and-so didn’t publish their first book until 45”
“so-and-so didn’t start painting until 35”

the same applies to dating.

there is no deadline.
there is no shame in starting late.
there is no age limit on being a slut.

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if you like what you read…here are other essays I’d recommend:

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