42: the answer to almost everything: Why do we have less sex? | ARTE.tv Documentaries

Why Are We Having Less Sex? The Sexual Paradox of Our Times. Imagine a world that seems more open, liberated, and obsessed with sex than ever before. We're surrounded by explicit music, racy TV shows, endless dating apps, and a digital buffet of sexual possibilities. Yet, paradoxically, people today are having less sex than previous generations. In the past 35 years, the average number of sexual encounters per month has dropped significantly, echoing across different ages, backgrounds, and orientations. But what's behind this collective turn-down of desire? Part of the answer lies in how our relationship with sexuality has transformed. The sexual revolution of the late 20th century swept away many old taboos, separating pleasure from procreation and promising new freedoms. People campaigned for the right to enjoy sex on their own terms, and the era's newfound openness was genuinely exhilarating. But liberation also brought new complexities. What used to be a straightforward, sometimes repressive script—sex within marriage, for procreation—was replaced by an infinite variety of identities, practices, and expectations. Now, sex is not just an act, but a marker of identity and personal fulfillment, scrutinized under the bright lights of medicine, psychology, and social norms. Our modern world has also layered on new pressures. The culture of achievement demands that we excel in every area, including the bedroom. We chase perfect bodies, flawless orgasms, and imaginative positions. Dating apps promise more choices, but also breed uncertainty and a fear of missing out; we're always wondering if there's someone better just a swipe away. Social media and digital distractions trickle into our private moments, and the stress of daily life—long hours, economic anxiety, constant comparison—drains the energy that once went into intimacy. Interestingly, while partnered sex is declining, solo sex is on the rise. People are more likely to explore their desires alone than with others, suggesting a shift not away from sexuality, but toward different ways of expressing and experiencing it. For some, this means less pressure and more autonomy. For others, it's a sign of deepening loneliness or the challenge of forming lasting bonds in an individualistic age. The new sexual landscape is more diverse and inclusive than ever before, yet also fraught with contradictions. We're freer to define pleasure on our own terms, but also more aware of the need for mutual consent and genuine connection. The script is no longer rigid, but that very freedom can feel overwhelming—a limitless buffet where choosing becomes exhausting, and the risk of disappointment is high. Perhaps, then, the real revolution isn't about having more sex, but about seeking richer, more meaningful experiences of pleasure—whether physical, emotional, or simply the joy of connection, with others or ourselves. As we rewrite our sexual scripts, the focus shifts from frequency and performance to authenticity, consent, and a broader embrace of what brings us joy. In the end, maybe less sex doesn't mean less fulfillment, but an invitation to reimagine desire in all its forms, both in the bedroom and beyond.