The Loneliest Love: A Reflection on the Rise of Self-Intimacy and What It Says About Us
According to recent data from Metro, rates of masturbation have skyrocketed from 35% in 2022 to 63% in 2023, and now, 83% in 2025.
Another data by PR Newswire states that over 92% of men masturbate. That’s nearly 8 out of 10 people seeking intimacy not from another person, but from themselves. It declines with age as over 57% of men aged 70-79 indulge in it and over 40% of women of that age do it according to data from Medical News Today.
We live in a time of unprecedented access to connection, to content, to stimulation. And yet, never before have we seemed more alone.
Remote working—less activity, economic inflations, lack of ability to afford to struggle through, etc.
All of these reasons and more, lead to the masturbators and DJ players.
What I want to say and I say this gently, lovingly, truthfully: Please take care of your hands.
Perhaps there should be a day set aside just to honor them like how we have Valentine’s Day. For the release they’ve brought this much people according to the data.
For the consistency. For the illusion of connection they’ve provided to people in a world where “affection &connection” has become increasingly hard to touch or accomplish.
Don’t confuse this with love please. Don’t confuse routine release with emotional safety. Do not begin to think that people are akin to your hands—available on demand, without question, without boundary, without soul. Just eager to willingly bring you comfort, to scratch your itch.
People are not your hands. They are not made for your callous convenience. They are not tools to be used and discarded once you're done or once they show they’re human beings with emotions and minds.
It may be hard, yet, the longer you rely on yourself alone for intimacy, the more foreign real affection becomes. The harder it becomes to engage in conversations outside of the bed. The harder it becomes to see a person and not classify them into the categories fitting to appease you.
“I could snag any girl I want,” you say. But when asked, “When last did you feel held, seen, adored, without it being transactional?” You pause.
And say, “Yesterday. From my hands, you know...”
Intimacy was never meant to be so lonely. Affection was never meant to be something you had to simulate.
It’s showing now.
In the way you flinch from eye contact. In the way conversations spiral toward innuendo before hello. In the way you cannot sustain a connection that doesn’t orbit around sex.
You are used to your hands doing the job for you; so now, you no longer know how to hold someone else.
That aching hollowness? That longing you can’t name? It’s not just about sex. It’s about closeness. Safety. Vulnerability. Human connection. Caring. But you bury it under bravado and bluster.
You say, “There’s no genuine connection these days.” But were you ever genuine in your search for love? Or did you want a body, a shape, a shadow, To replace the comfort of your own palm?
You go on dating apps, not to meet minds but to seek voyeurs for your performance. She blocks you. You rage. “All women want is money,” you conclude. “No one wants true love,” you lament.
But perhaps what you really wanted was someone who wouldn’t talk back. Who wouldn’t ask for space. Who wouldn’t require effort. Someone who didn’t need you to grow, communicate, or show up.
In fact to simply put, you want, a person who would be as quiet and pliable as your hands.
The world says, “Do you.” But what if doing us is doing us more harm than good?
What if, in this echo chamber of solo pleasure, you have forgotten how to love even yourself?
Poem for you;
Please take care of your hands, yes! But take care of your heart too. Take care of your voice, your listening, your learning how to hold space.
Because the warmth you seek is not a moment's release—It is a hand, reaching back when you reach out.
It is that “hello” with no expectations, A “stay” with no performance.
Plus it does not begin and end in your pants— It begins with presence that wants to learn the quirks that make you.
Not the stroke of your hand over your intimate parts, but the willingness to be seen. Fully. Honestly. Tenderly—If you can dare it!
Powerful write-up, Win! Powerful!
This!