How loneliness drives compulsive sexual behaviour

Loneliness is a big, big driver of compulsive sexual behaviour. It is connected to shame, but it isn't the same thing. For many men, being shamed around sex, having no one to talk to, getting the implicit message that they are wrong to be sexual in the way they are, and being taught that open sex is either morally reprehensible or against some social norm, feels lonely. There is often nowhere to go to talk about it, no space while we are developing to learn to navigate these feelings, no outlet. It is ultimately lonely.

Gay and bisexual men: silence from the start

For gay and bisexual men that loneliness often starts early. There usually isn't permission around sexual expression, or spaces to talk, or encouragement to explore same-sex experiences openly with peers. There is silence. Seeking out same-sex material, early encounters, even fantasy, is often connected with shame, silence and loneliness, which can bring threat into sexual experience from the start.

Straight men: alone in plain sight

For straight men the loneliness can be less visible. Most of the straight men I see have navigated sex alone, even though it doesn't look like they are alone. There is plenty of talk among peers about sexual conquests at a surface level, but an expectation that men will know what to do, know how to please a female partner and take the lead. Straight men are allowed to talk about sex, encouraged to be sexual, and rewarded with status and bravado. But the actual experience of being with a female partner, taking the lead, performing (in inverted commas) and meeting everyone's needs is often quite lonely. It is rarely talked about seriously. It is talked about in terms of performance and prescribed ideas, but nothing that's real. Many of the straight men I work with say that sex has felt really lonely, and that they don't feel able to talk about the pressure even with partners they love dearly, because men are expected to be in this role, to be unemotional, and to have no anxiety or insecurity about their bodies, their partner's body or how they navigate sex. Combined with men generally not being socialised to talk emotionally about much at all, it becomes a kind of straitjacket.

What men are really seeking

So sex sits at a complicated intersection. It is used to meet sexual needs, but also relational needs and the need to feel less lonely. Sometimes we are driven to be sexual not because we are fully attracted to the person or genuinely aroused, but by the prospect of feeling less lonely. That can lead us to violate boundaries or make decisions that aren't in our best interests, because we are trying to meet a different need.

Often what men are seeking isn't sex at all. Sometimes it is relief or respite. For others it is connection, or a space where they can be more authentically themselves, or present a side of themselves they feel cut off from elsewhere. Sometimes, ironically, it is intimacy, even though many of these behaviours look deeply lacking in intimacy on the surface: a chance to talk, communicate, be physical and express something that doesn't feel possible in everyday life. For some men it is the opposite: a way to be sexual without the emotional side, an experience that feels simple and uncomplicated.

Connection outside the relationship

This is one of the hardest things for people to hold, because many of the men I work with are, or have been, in long-term relationships, usually monogamous. Yet the casual encounters, the affairs, sex on drugs or the sex worker bring a form of connection that doesn't feel possible in a relationship that should feel safer and more intimate. Underneath the behaviour, what I often see is a constant search for a moment of connection, a moment where we can let go, speak honestly, and step away from the pressures and responsibilities of everyday life. That is why stripping away a behaviour straight away, without understanding the dynamics around connection, can be hugely damaging. You may be taking away someone's outlet for expressing or being themselves. If that isn't addressed, it will keep pulling people back. Despite accumulating consequences, these behaviours hold a possibility: to be seen, to be valued, to be desired, and, ironically, to feel safe, even though they often aren't safe. In everyday encounters that can feel impossible.

For gay, bi and other men who have sex with men (MSM), and particularly in chemsex, there is something about spaces where we can let our guard down and don't have to pretend. They can feel affirming and community-focused. They encourage conversation and connection, sometimes deep interpersonal connection. That is especially true for men who might be excluded from other sexual spaces: men with disabilities, neurodivergent men, men with different bodies, men of different ages. Despite the harms, which are sometimes staring us in the face, we keep seeking it, because one of the most painful drivers is the absence of that connection anywhere else.

Why intimacy can be the hardest place

Intimacy itself can be the hardest place. Being seen by someone, being honest about what we feel, communicating honestly and responding honestly to what we notice in another person all require a tolerance of distress that many of the men I work with were never taught. So sex with people who are anonymous, or less emotionally connected, or sex where physical performance is foregrounded, or using substances to sidestep emotional expression, can feel far more comfortable. That is the bind many men describe. They desperately want to connect with the person they love most, but the person they love most presents the most threat, because that person challenges them most, asks the most questions, and shows emotion in ways that feel hard to manage.

How the behaviour shrinks our world

Over time the behaviour also shrinks our world. Relationships are lost, strained or hidden from. Men avoid social spaces, or struggle to enter relationships at all. The behaviour started as a fix for difficulties in our relationships, but it becomes a barrier: it takes our time, makes us secretive and deceptive, and fills us with shame, so that building the relationships we want becomes almost impossible. Hobbies, friendships, travel, nature and sport fall away. The behaviour becomes the main driver, and with less and less beyond it, it becomes harder to imagine a future.

Why the group matters

The process of getting help can be lonely too. To go through this with no one to talk to is one of the cruellest experiences, and it compounds the loneliness, shame and emotional burden that drove the behaviour in the first place. I think we're sometimes at risk of perpetuating that in one-to-one therapy. That is a big part of why we developed the group: because men asked for it. People are aware there must be others going through this, and they wanted somewhere to talk and share it. What men tell us about the group is that they feel part of a community, they feel safe, and they can understand and share things in a way they never have in any other conversation.