"I didn't have my first sex until I was thirty. For a long time, I thought it would never happen," says a man who has struggled with low self-esteem all his life
"I didn't believe anyone would ever want me. And certainly not that I could have an intimate relationship with someone," says Ondřej, 34. He had his first sex only a few months ago. At a time when dating is a matter of a few clicks and sexuality is taken for granted as part of growing up, his story seems almost out of place. It's like he's from another world.
But it is his experience that shows how deeply we can be imprinted by our upbringing, shame, insecurity and the silent signals from those around us that we are "different". And how long it can take before we allow ourselves to believe that we too are entitled to closeness.
The silence that shapes life
Ondřej grew up in a small town in the Highlands. Homosexuality wasn't talked about there. And if it was, it was in whispers or with contempt.
"I remember when my dad saw an actor on TV who made no secret of being gay. He'd just say, 'Ew, faggots.' And move on. For him, it was a comment to the wind. For me, it was the moment when I realized that if I was... like that, I must never say it."
So he spent his adolescence hiding. He kept his first crush a secret, never went on any dates. When his classmates started discovering sex, he withdrew even more.
"I was quiet, rather invisible. I felt unattractive, uninteresting, not masculine enough. And most importantly, late. It was as if I'd missed the train and was left standing on the platform."
Life outwardly fine
This feeling was so deeply ingrained in him that he built an impenetrable wall around his sexuality. He graduated from university, moved to Brno, found a job in administration. Outwardly, he was working. A quiet, decent, independent young man.
"No one ever asked me why I wasn't with anyone. And I was hiding behind my job, behind the fact that I wasn't the relationship type. I said it suited me. It's just that when I came home at night, I was suffocated by loneliness and the feeling that there was something wrong with me."
The question that opened everything up
The turning point came subtly. At 27, he started going to therapy - for anxiety. Not for sexuality.
"One day the therapist asked me, 'How's your love life?' I was blocked. I couldn't answer."
But it was that question that opened the door to something he'd been suppressing for years. He began to talk about his fear of rejection, his shame about his body, about being a virgin. For the first time, he was met with neither ridicule nor incomprehension. Just acceptance.
"I figured there was nothing wrong with me. I was just scared all along."
A meeting that wasn't about performance
Gradually, he found the courage within himself to change the little things. He stopped forcing himself into apps that only made him feel out of place. Instead, he enrolled in dance classes for beginners.
And that's where he met Philip.
"He was the first person who didn't look at me like I was a weirdo. We wrote to each other, went for walks. Everything was slow, he didn't put any pressure on me. He never asked how much experience I had. He took me as I was."
Sex came after a few months. Safe. With someone he trusted.
"It wasn't a movie moment. I was nervous, awkward. But I felt accepted. And that was the difference. It wasn't about performance, it was about trust."
"I deserve it too."
A few months have passed since then. Andrew hadn't become a self-confident extrovert. But something had shifted in him.
"I stopped being ashamed of who I am. And it may sound pathetic, but that first sex wasn't about the body. It was about the first time I allowed myself to say, 'I deserve it too.'"
Today, he talks openly about his experience. Because he knows he's not the only one.
"I get texts from guys - younger and older - who have never slept with anyone and are afraid something is wrong with them. There isn't. We just have different times."
There's not just one way to be gay
Andrew's story shatters stereotypes about the gay community that often reduce it to an image of promiscuity and the constant hunt for sex.
"The pressure is there. Especially online. And if you go into it with low self-esteem, it's easy to get swept away. But the queer experience is much more varied. There's no one right script for being gay."
She also points out how little is said about late sexual onset without shame.
"I felt like I missed out on youth. Today I know I just wasn't ready for it then. And that's okay."
For those who recognize themselves in his words, his experience holds hope. Not as a blueprint for quick change, but as a reminder that it's never too late for some things. Not even for sex. Or love. Or for self-acceptance.
