What if the guy who didn’t make a move wasn’t weak
he just knew orgasm without objectification was the only way
he could stay in integrity with his ADHD?
What if the reason he stayed in the friend zone
wasn’t because he lacked confidence,
but because he was scared to ruin something sacred?
What if he wanted to celebrate you so badly,
he chose silence over risk
because the thought of making you uncomfortable
was more unbearable than being misunderstood?
? I Stayed Quiet, So I Wouldn’t Feel Like a Creep
I used to think if I didn’t make it weird, I was doing it right.
If I didn’t flirt, didn’t act, didn’t say the sexy thing
then I was being respectful.
But no one tells you what to do
when your way of worshiping someone
gets mistaken for not caring at all.
? I Fantasized About Her, Then Watched My Friend Date Her
I told my friends how hot she was.
How radiant.
How electric her laugh was when she didn’t know anyone was listening.
And one of them
less cautious, more confident, shot his shot.
He got her number.
She went on a date with him.
I found out later she’d actually been interested in me all along.
She thought I didn’t like her.
She thought I thought I was too good for her.
She never knew I was jerking off to the thought of her just existing.
?️ I Watch Her Walk the Beach, And I Want to Cheer
The beach is where my hypersexuality lives.
Not in a creepy, leering way.
In a celebratory, full-sensory, dopamine-drenched kind of way.
Every bikini is a story.
Every walk across the sand is a lesson in confidence.
And if I didn’t wear sunglasses, I’d be fucking exposed.
I don’t stare to consume
I study.
I admire.
I spiral.
And I fantasize about telling her
the one in the thong bikini,
or the one walking proudly with older friends.
I see you.
You are radiant.
Your confidence is holy.
Thank you for showing up like this.
But of course, I don’t say it.
I never would.
Because I know how that would land.
So I keep it to myself.
I loop it in my brain.
I get hard and then feel guilty.
Not because I violated anyone.
But because I wanted to celebrate them and had no safe way to say it.
☕️ She Thought I Was Judging Her. But I Was Blushing
It happens outside the beach, too.
At the café, when the barista calls me by name,
smiles, maybe adds a playful wink,
my whole nervous system glitches.
I blush.
I look down.
I can’t even hold her gaze.
But then I sit in the corner seat, sipping slow,
watching her own her presence
commanding attention with charm and cheek and light.
And in my head, I’m cheering.
I want to write her a note: “I saw you. You’re magic. Never stop.”
But I don’t.
Because what if she thinks I’m being inappropriate?
What if she thinks I’m staring because I’m judging,
when the truth is
I’m spiraling in celebration.
My ADHD short-circuits my face, my body, my ability to respond.
And once again, I’m the quiet one in the corner.
Seen as cold.
When I was just too full to speak.
? Orgasm Without Objectification Is the ADHD Twist No One Talks About
This is the real ADHD paradox:
We’re hypersexual.
We’re impulsive.
We feel everything, crave everything, and still
we hold back.
Because we don’t want to be that guy.
And in trying not to be dangerous,
we end up being invisible.
We worship quietly.
We spiral silently.
We come in secret.
And then we feel ashamed for even having felt so much.
ADHD doesn’t just make us impulsive.
It makes us reverent as fuck.We don’t make the move,
not because we’re not turned on—
but because we’re turned on so much,
we’re scared to ruin the beauty of it.We admire from afar.
We celebrate in silence.
And we carry the ache of being misunderstood
by the very people we most wanted to uplift.