u/KazuAmon

My AvPD has definitely gotten worse over time. A few years ago, I could go into stores, be in public places, and just move through it without really overthinking anything. Now it’s different. Even simple things feel like they require planning. I’ll put off going out until it’s late, just so there’s less chance of running into people. I’ve been skipping events and things my family wants me to go to, not because I don’t want to, but because it feels like I can’t just “show up” the way I used to.

This recent rejection I had with this girl I’ve been talking to for over a year has made it even worse. It just added to everything already building up.

I don’t really know how to explain it properly anymore. It’s like somewhere along the way, being around people stopped feeling normal and started feeling like something I have to brace myself for. And once that starts, it’s hard to unlearn.

Idk man. It just feels like the more I avoid it, the smaller my world gets, and the harder it becomes to step back into it again.

One thing that's always stuck with me about the pandemic was the way people reacted to lockdowns and social distancing. And before anyone misunderstands me, I'm not saying people didn't have a right to struggle. Of course they did. Human beings aren't meant to live in isolation.

But that's exactly my point.

When the pandemic hit, millions of people suddenly found themselves cut off from their normal lives. People talked constantly about how much they missed their partners, their friends, their families, going on dates, having sex, hugging people, going out and simply being around others. There were endless articles about loneliness, touch starvation, declining mental health, and the psychological effects of isolation.

And yet, for years, many of us who have experienced chronic loneliness or have been forever alone have often been told the exact opposite.

We've been told that relationships aren't that important. That sex isn't a big deal. That we should just focus on ourselves. That we need to stop complaining. That happiness comes from within. That we should learn to be alone.

But then the moment average people were forced to experience even a fraction of that isolation for a year or two, it became one of the biggest mental health discussions in modern history.

I remember seeing people talk about how they were having breakdowns because they couldn't see their boyfriend or girlfriend for a few months. People talked about how much they missed physical intimacy. They talked about how depressing it was not to be able to see their friends every weekend. They talked about feeling trapped, isolated, and disconnected from humanity itself.

And all I could think was: "I've been living like this for ALL MY LIFE."

Some people here have never had a relationship. Some have never experienced romantic love, intimacy, or even simple companionship. Some have never had someone to text at night, hold hands with, spend holidays with, or just exist alongside. For us, isolation wasn't a temporary public health measure. It became our entire adult lives.

That's why I've always found it difficult when people dismiss loneliness as some minor inconvenience that can be solved with hobbies or positive thinking. The pandemic itself proved that human connection matters. It proved that companionship matters. It proved that intimacy matters. Otherwise, why did so many people suffer so deeply when those things were taken away?

I think the pandemic accidentally validated something that many lonely people had been trying to explain for years: human beings genuinely need connection. We aren't weak for wanting it. We aren't shallow for desiring relationships or intimacy. We aren't broken for struggling without them.

And whenever lonely people try to express this, one of the most common responses is, "You're not entitled to a relationship." And that's true. Nobody is entitled to another person's love, affection, or body. But I don't think that's what most lonely people are actually saying. Wanting companionship isn't entitlement. Wanting to experience love, intimacy, and connection isn't entitlement. Mourning the absence of something that most human beings naturally desire isn't entitlement. If anything, the pandemic showed just how deeply people suffer when those connections are taken away. So when someone who has gone decades, or even an entire lifetime, without those experiences says that they're hurting, dismissing them with "you're not entitled" feels less like wisdom and more like a way of avoiding the conversation altogether.

The pandemic showed just how much emotional pain people experience when they're deprived of something that many of us never had to begin with.

One of the hardest parts about growing up isolated isn't just the loneliness itself. It's realizing how many ordinary human experiences you never got to have, and how the absence of those experiences slowly changes the way you see yourself and the world around you.

Just the other day, one of the rare times I go outside other than work, I saw this girl riding a bicycle through the park. She was probably in her twenties or thirties, wearing a summer dress, and she had this little dog running alongside her on a leash. It was such a simple, ordinary scene that most people probably wouldn't even think twice about it.

But I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I wasn't thinking about sex. I wasn't thinking about anything superficial. I was thinking about how nice it would be to have a girlfriend and do something that simple with someone. Ride bikes through the park together. Walk our dogs. Stop somewhere for lunch afterward. Maybe catch a movie later that evening. Just experience ordinary human companionship.

And that's what I think a lot of people don't understand when they dismiss loneliness or tell you that relationships aren't that important.

It's not about wanting some fantasy romance. It's about wanting to participate in the experiences that seem to come so naturally to everyone else.

A lot of us never got those experiences. Maybe it was because of psychological problems. Maybe it was anxiety, depression, trauma, bullying, social isolation, family circumstances, unattractiveness or just a series of unfortunate events that slowly turned us into this. Whatever the reason, you wake up one day and realize that years have passed and you've missed out on an entire stage of human development.

People talk about a lack of relationship experience as if it's some minor inconvenience that you can simply overcome with confidence and a positive attitude. But experience matters. Experience builds confidence. Experience teaches you how to connect with people, how to trust, how to be vulnerable, how to love and be loved.

When you don't get those experiences, you're not just missing out on relationships. You're missing out on the personal growth that comes from them.

And the older you get, the harder it becomes not to notice the gap between yourself and everyone else. You see couples your age or much younger who have years of memories together. You see people who have had first loves, heartbreaks, friendships, intimacy, companionship. Meanwhile, you feel like you're still waiting for a life that never really started.

I think this is part of the reason why so many people talk about a loneliness epidemic, why some people withdraw or become distant from society entirely, why others stop participating altogether. Human beings aren't designed to live in complete emotional isolation. We can distract ourselves and cope with work, hobbies, entertainment, or endless self-improvement, but eventually the absence of connection catches up with us. Mourning the experiences you never had and trying to figure out how to live with the feeling that an entire chapter of life passed you by while you were standing on the outside looking in.

I'm high as a kite right now, so sorry if this is unintelligible raving.

I genuinely believe that missing out on teen and college love can leave scars that follow you for years, maybe even for life.

Normies love to say, "It's not a big deal," or "You're romanticizing it," but I don't think they understand what they're actually taking for granted. It's not just about sex or having someone to post pictures with. It's about experiencing connection, intimacy, validation, companionship, and growing alongside someone during the years when everyone else seems to be doing exactly that.

When you spend your teenage years and twenties watching everyone around you date, fall in love, have their first experiences, break up, try again, and build memories while you remain completely isolated, it changes you. The loneliness doesn't just go away because you get older. It settles into you. It affects your confidence, your self-esteem, your motivation, and eventually the way you see yourself as a person.

People will tell you to focus on your career, academics, hobbies, or self-improvement. And yes, those things matter. But sacrificing personal relationships in the hope that achievement will somehow compensate for human connection can leave you feeling emotionally hollow. You can have accomplishments, money, degrees, or a career, and still feel like you've missed out on one of the most fundamental parts of the human experience.

We're social creatures. I don't care how introverted someone claims to be or how much they insist they don't need anyone. At the end of the the day, most people want to be wanted. They want companionship. They want intimacy. They want someone who chooses them.

And yes, I think there's something uniquely painful about never getting to experience being someone's first choice, first love, or first real relationship. People will say that love is love regardless of when it happens, but I think many people intuitively understand why those experiences matter. There's something deeply meaningful about discovering love, intimacy, and vulnerability together for the first time. Being someone's first can feel irreplaceable in a way that being someone's third, fourth, or fifth partner simply doesn't. Maybe that's not a popular thing to say, but it's how I feel.

That's why I've always found it frustrating when people who have had multiple relationships tell those who have had none that "it's not all that." If it's really not that important, then why do so many people immediately seek out another relationship after one ends? Why do people complain about being single despite having years of romantic experience? Why do people complain about not having sex while simultaneously telling others that sex doesn't matter?

Maybe the reality is that these things do matter. Maybe they're not the only things that matter, but they're important enough that most people spend a significant portion of their lives pursuing them.

And when you've spent your entire youth and early adulthood without experiencing any of it, it doesn't feel like a small thing. It feels like you've missed out on something deeply human that everyone else got to experience while you stood outside looking in.

I went out to pick up some pain medication when a girl—I'm guessing she was on her way to the gym because she was dressed in gym clothes—was in line with me.

She asked if she could feel my arm, and I nervously nodded. She did, smiled, and said, "Nice, man." I just nodded back because I was too caught off guard to say anything. It was pretty awkward.

Yeah, that's basically it. It felt surprisingly nice just to be touched by a woman, and her hands were so soft. Considering I'm a 28-year-old virgin with virtually no experience interacting with women in that way, the moment stuck with me more than I expected. Pathetic I know

I went out to pick up some pain medication when a girl—I'm guessing she was on her way to the gym because she was dressed in gym clothes—was in line with me.

She asked if she could feel my arm, and I nervously nodded. She did, smiled, and said, "Nice, man." I just nodded back because I was too caught off guard to say anything. It was pretty awkward.

Yeah, that's basically it. It felt surprisingly nice just to be touched by a woman, and her hands were so soft. Considering I'm a 28-year-old virgin with virtually no experience interacting with women in that way, the moment stuck with me more ways than I can imagine. Pathetic I know.