’ve decided to start sex therapy. Perhaps it seems like an odd time to see a sex therapist, given this past year in lockdown has been utterly barren of sexual exploits and I’m beginning to feel like a born-again virgin. My most pressing issue right now is less about sex per se than it is about a total lack thereof.
But if this miserable year of enforced isolation and romantic deprivation has granted anything in the way of a silver lining, it is that a prolonged confrontation with myself has led to one or two epiphanies.
The removal of life’s usual cacophony of noise and distractions has produced clarity. For me, that has come in the form of the now unavoidable realisation that my adolescent eating disorder never really went away.
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