I am in my early 40s now, 6"2 and still a virgin technically speaking, despite having had multiple opportunities over the years.

So I've done sexual stuff, this has ranged from heavy petting to some genital rubbing to receiving some oral. I came very close to penetration twice in my life but never crossed the line fully. In total and i counted this, the number of women that I had potential to have intercourse with but didn't go through with it because I didn't want to... Is 12. And all these 12 women wanted to do it with me, they desired me in that way and was ready but I couldn't go through with it. The reason being a mixture of my faith conviction of seeing fornication as a sin, so I feared having intercourse because I sensed I would be judged by God in some henious manner like he would strike me down, coupled with the fact that 9 of these women were one offs and casual encounters so I felt even more guilty with the thought of having intercourse with someone I may never see again. So I never truly had that desire, the desire to have intercourse.

So I feel a sense of regret because I feel I have missed out on this crucial human experience which is definitely quite upsetting.

There is such a sense of loss if not disbelief that I've come to this age and still not have had penetrative intercourse. When I dig deeper into my thoughts about this though, it's not so much about the physical act (although there are issues around this too), it's more to do with what this act means symbolically. It's like a missing puzzle piece in my personal development. I know deep down it is not a measure of completeness but many people esp in the west, view sex as a rite of passage, a life marker. So when it doesn’t happen "on time," it can create a sense of being left behind or “unfinished” or "incomplete"

Something that should have felt noble now feels like I'm carrying such a very heavy weight—one made of shame, fear, regret, and deep spiritual conflict. Sex whether or not should not define my identity and but it seems like I've attached my core worth to this one act.

The timeline I hoped for feels like it betrayed me—and that’s where the pain is. I just thought I would have got married many years ago, and enjoyed the fulfilment of saving sex and get to finally enjoy it with my wife who would have done the same.

Yet the situation I'm in, is that I'm living with this regret and inability to forgive myself for not having had intercourse when I had the chance to. So at the time I knew it was wrong but I just didn't think I'd be waiting this long to experience this.

Ultimately it comes down to carrying the emotional weight of not having crossed a threshold—a threshold that, in my mind and in society’s messaging, has symbolized adulthood, masculinity, normality, and belonging. It’s the symbolic part that stings: that "one thing" I haven't done, even though you’ve come close. That's what I seem wrapped up in - the fact that I haven't been inside of a woman. My penis has never entered a vagina.