Why more people are choosing sex breaks — and finding themselves

Many of us live in an era where sexual freedom is often equated with personal liberation. From dating apps that promise instant intimacy to social media feeds filled with stories of sex-positivity. 

The message seems clear: more sex equals more empowerment. 

But quietly a countermovement is taking shape, one of voluntary celibacy and intentional sex breaks.

More people, particularly millennials and Gen Z, are stepping back from sexual activity, not out of shame or repression, but in pursuit of something deeper: clarity, healing, control, or simply a break from the emotional toll of modern dating. 

What was once taboo or pitied is now trending, reframed as an act of self-care in a world that too often equates physical intimacy with personal worth.

So why is abstaining from sex voluntarily and often joyfully gaining traction? And what does this shift reveal about today’s romantic and sexual landscape?

The exhaustion of always being available

Modern dating culture has evolved rapidly over the past two decades. Swipe-based apps like Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge have made potential partners accessible at the flick of a thumb. 

Hookup culture, which once belonged primarily to university campuses, has extended well into adult life. With this convenience has come a paradox: more sex, less connection.

Emotional unavailability, ghosting, breadcrumbing, and the ever-present anxiety of being “just another option” have left many people feeling depleted rather than fulfilled. 

In a world that encourages us to “put ourselves out there,” many of us are beginning to ask: at what cost?

“Dating feels more like a job than a joy,” says Lindi, 44, from Johannesburg. “I am constantly performing, curating the right pictures, replying to small talk, trying to gauge intentions. The emotional isn’t worth the dead average connection.”

For her, a year-long sex and dating sabbatical isn’t about punishment or piety, but about reclaiming autonomy. “I want to focus on my own needs, without the pressure of being seen, chosen, or sexualised.”

This desire to retreat and reset is not rare. 

A 2025 global survey by Relationship Insights Group found that 24% of respondents had taken or were considering a voluntary break from sex or dating and 53% of those who had, reported improved mental health, self-esteem, and a more intentional approach to intimacy afterwards.

Celibacy rebranded: From shame to self-love

Historically, celibacy has been framed as either religious devotion or an unfortunate by-product of rejection. The “involuntarily celibate” (incel) movement has further distorted public understanding, associating sexual abstinence with resentment, misogyny, and social dysfunction.

But the new celibacy is different. It is chosen, empowered, and often celebrated especially by women and queer people as a form of self-preservation and spiritual clarity.

British singer and actress Diana Vickers recently made headlines by declaring she’d been “boysober” for nine months, and that the resulting clarity had “led to the best sex of [her] life” once she re-engaged with intimacy. “I feel like I’ve reset my relationship with sex,” she said. “Now, I have zero tolerance for mediocrity or emotional laziness.”

Across social media platforms like TikTok and Instagram, hashtags like #SexSabbatical, #Boysober, #CelibateNotSad, and #HealingGirlEra attract millions of views. 

Creators share their reasons for pressing pause from recovering after toxic relationships to rediscovering self-worth outside of validation from others.

For many, celibacy isn’t a rejection of sex itself it’s a rejection of performative intimacy, emotional caretaking without reciprocity, or physical connection that lacks depth.

Emotional self-care in a hypersexual world

One of the most powerful undercurrents of this movement is the idea that stepping back from sex is a legitimate form of healing especially for people who have experienced sexual trauma, toxic dating patterns, or chronic relationship anxiety. Personally I don’t think you need to be traumatised before you decide to stop the hypersexualised march of dating. 

Sex therapist and author Dr Marisa Tait explains: “There’s nothing inherently unhealthy about wanting or having frequent sex. But when intimacy becomes transactional, performative, or emotionally costly, it’s vital to reassess. A sex break can give individuals the space to untangle their desire from their wounds.”

She adds that celibacy often opens the door for somatic healing reconnecting with one’s body as a site of safety, rather than performance or exploitation.

In this context, sex breaks are akin to dry January or a digital detox not moralistic, but restorative. An intentional pause. A clearing of clutter.

Reclaiming boundaries and redefining intimacy

At its core, the rise of sex breaks speaks to a cultural shift: people are redefining what intimacy means and crucially, who it's for.

Rather than prioritising being desired, many are asking: Do I desire myself? Do I feel safe? Seen? Free?

“For years, I used sex to prove I was lovable,” says Kea, 39. “It wasn’t until I stopped having it that I realised I didn’t believe that myself. My sex break helped me build a relationship with my own body, and it changed everything.”

Many sex sabbaticals are temporary. But even when short-lived, they often lead to more conscious, respectful re-engagement with intimacy. Some people return to dating with clearer boundaries. Still others choose to remain celibate and find peace in that choice.

The myth of the “sexually empowered” women

In a world that still sells the image of a “liberated woman” as one who is confident, sexy, and always up for it, celibacy can feel rebellious.

When women step away from sex, they disrupt decades of conditioning that tied their value to desirability. Choosing celibacy becomes an act not rooted in purity, but in power.

It challenges the notion that we owe our partner sex. That relationship success is measured in chemistry. That healing happens through someone else’s touch.

As the celibate movement grows, it’s clear that people are hungry not just for sex but for meaning, intention, and peace. Sometimes, the most radical thing we can do is to stop and ask: Is this what I want? Or is this what I’ve been told I should want?

Choosing celibacy or a sex break in today’s hyper-connected, hyper-sexualised world is not about going backwards it’s about moving forward differently.

It’s a pause, not a retreat.

It’s a declaration that healing matters more than hooking up, that wholeness matters more than hotness, and that true intimacy begins not in someone else’s arms but in the quiet company of oneself.

For many, this isn't the end of desire it’s the beginning of authentic desire. And in that stillness, many are finding something far more lasting than pleasure: peace.

Sharon Gordon is a sexual health advocate, writer, and educator based in Johannesburg. She writes about relationships, intimacy, and empowerment. Follow her on Instagram @HotFlushMama or @LolaMontezBoutique for weekly reflections.