Sex and Emotional Distance

Two sides. One craving. One closed door.

Entanglement Series — These aren’t love stories. They’re the ones that slipped between the rules.

The late-night links. The blurred lines. The ones you weren’t supposed to entertain but did.

Some were quick. Some lasted years. None were simple.

There’s two sides of me when it comes to sex. One side wants to leave an impression—not just a memory, but a craving. A fingerprint on your soul. I want to be that unmatched moment, that whisper of “what was that?” you hear in your head later. Something unforgettable.

Then there’s the other side: the part that doesn’t attach emotions. Sex and emotional distance go hand in hand here. Sex becomes quiet. Intimate. A rare kind of presence. It’s me being wanted fully, not for what I give or fix, but just for existing.

But once it’s over? It’s over.

I leave it there. I don’t want to talk about it or replay it. I don’t need validation or pillow talk. That silence afterward? That’s not coldness. It’s closure. It’s the soft click of a door I won’t reopen.

Some people find that strange. Others live it, too. Sex and emotional distance doesn’t mean you don’t feel. It means what you feel has boundaries.

Which side are you on?

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