Camille came back to see me. She needed a sports certificate, but in the middle of the consultation, she opened up. She had read the books I recommended, explored her body, and finally started to enjoy self-pleasure. She smiled as she told me, “I really thought I’d never be able to do it.”

She also met someone—a gentle guy. They kissed, shared intimacy, engaged in oral sex. But no penetration yet. “So, I guess I’m still a virgin,” she said hesitantly. I could tell the word weighed on her.

We talked about what real sex means. Society conditions us to see it as penetration, but isn’t sex simply about pleasure, connection, and desire? I could see something clicking in her mind—like she needed someone to validate her experience as real, not just a prelude to something else.

As we said goodbye, I saw a tear roll down her cheek. She thanked me, her voice breaking. But really, I told her, she should be thanking herself—she did all the work.

When she left, I closed the door, let my own tear fall, and took a deep breath.

And you—when was the last time you cried because something was beautiful?

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