Every two years or so, a study crawls out of the woodwork declaring that young people aren’t having sex—cue the thinkpieces, Substacks, and alarmist op-eds, until someone writes a book about it. The one currently dominating the discourse is The State of Dating Report, a 2024 study by Feeld (a dating app for people who are into ethical non-monogamy, polyamory, and casual sex) and Dr Justin Lehmiller of the Kinsey Institute (USA).
It primarily talks about Gen Z’s attitude towards love, sex, and kink, and also confirms that the generation isn’t really having much sex. The research, conducted in 71 countries (with a dominant percentage in the US), found that the median number of times millennials and Gen X reported having sex a month was five, while for both Gen Z and boomers, the median was merely three times a month.
American writer and editor Jia Tolentino observes how the young are “presented with a Vegas buffet of carnality, but are losing their appetite,” in her The New Yorker piece. Meanwhile, American journalist Carter Sherman’s book The Second Coming: Sex and the Next Generation’s Fight Over Its Future (2025) argues that miseducation, porn, digital disconnection, and political pressure together have shaped how they navigate sex and intimacy.
Ergo, we decided to f*ck around (pun not intended) and find out if the purported theory holds true for young people in India. We spoke to 15 individuals with diverse sexualities between the ages of 20 and 28, from Delhi, Bengaluru, Mumbai, Hyderabad, Dimapur, Ranchi, Ganapavaram, Panipat, and Ludhiana. While four are in a relationship, others are single (this includes all kinds of -ships too). None are married.
The conclusion: A majority (almost 67 per cent) admitted they weren’t sexually active. The reason? They’re simply not interested in having casual sex, not even for the plot!
A bunch of sex-positive virgins
Make no mistake—Gen Z isn’t indifferent to sex, and they’re certainly not prudes. When asked if sex matters to them, most responded affirmatively.
Limasenla Jamir*, a heterosexual woman from Nagaland now living in Delhi, hasn’t been sexually active recently since she is in a long-distance relationship with her boyfriend. She firmly believes that sex, especially before marriage, is important to know whether you’re sexually compatible with your partner. The 28-year-old argues that women should have sex, explore their bodies, and understand what they want. “They should demand it in the bedroom, where women’s voices are still so often unheard,” she emphasises.
Twenty-eight-year-old Subhash Bezawada says it’s important for him to have his physical needs honoured, met, and to feel fully in control of his body. For the Delhi-based curator, “Sexual autonomy is a key part of my sense of freedom and also, simply, just for the joy of pleasure.”
The home-and-family fix
According to a survey conducted between 2016 and 2018 by US-based global commercial real estate services and investment firm CBRE, over 80 per cent of India’s young urban population in the age bracket of 22–29 years lived with their parents. This is not news, considering the societal and cultural context and the family matrix in India. Plus, premarital sex is a choice, and also discouraged from a cultural point of view.
This living situation is not conducive to having sex, hence the ‘recession’, and 100 per cent of the respondents agree. It’s not really a Gen Z or millennial issue—it is a forever construct.
Thomas reveals that it was only when she moved out of her parents’ house for undergraduation that she had sexual intercourse: “I could’ve never been as free as I got to be in college (hundreds of miles away from my home). Imagine trying to buy contraceptives in a place where your parents have friends throughout the district. As chill as my parents pretend to be, I know they draw the line at premarital sex and living together, which is exactly the kind of things we were all getting up to in college.”
Twenty-six-year-old Aakriti Mathur, who moved away from home for work, has a similar opinion. “When I was not in a relationship, it was a task to feel safe or comfortable enough to let a person into my parents’ home,” she says.
For queer folk, the barriers don’t end at simply moving out. Bezawada tells us how there are very few offline spaces where queer people can safely and openly explore sexual connections. “Cruising can be risky,” he says. “There’s always the uncertainty and fear. And the limited online platforms that exist often reduce everything to just sex, without space for the nuance, connection, or desire that might lead to it. For many gay people, there’s no space that feels both safe and affirming, where intimacy, curiosity, and pleasure can coexist without fear or judgment.”
Dating apps to the rescue
When they do step out to explore intimacy, dating apps often lead the charge—but again, not for everyone.
For Jamir, all her sexual partners have been people she’s dated. “I’ve never been on an app just to find sexual partners,” she shares. “I went there with the intention of dating and one thing led to another, but most of my sexual partners have been from dating apps, very rarely friends,” she says.
Mathur and Bezawada echo a similar sentiment, relying primarily on apps for romantic and sexual connections. Meanwhile, 23-year-old Priyali Kumar has spent the last three years on dating apps searching for something serious—but hasn’t had much luck. “I think it really depends on why you’re there in the first place—is it to find something meaningful or just a fling?” she reflects.
No to cultural norms
Culture and religion no longer hold the same sway over how young people view sex.
Bezawada mentions how his views on sex are rooted in reclaiming his right to intimacy, autonomy, and sexual freedom as a path to liberation. He says, “Growing up in a conservative family where sex, let alone diverse expressions of pleasure, was never discussed, I respond to it as an adult; with a rebellious shift toward openness to desires, even a fierce urgency to hedonism.”
As for Jamir, her cultural background doesn’t influence her as much as it did when she was a teenager, when she “wasn’t questioning much.” “I was brought up in a soft Christian household, by soft I mean we’re not super religious,” she says, adding: “I’ve never been ashamed of having sex. My ex-boyfriend tried to use religion to shame me, but I don’t look at myself as if I’ve done something wrong.”
Khanna remarks how she’s been seeing her clients sidestepping arranged-marriage pressures, prioritising chemistry, pleasure, and self-discovery. “It’s a bold, globalised middle finger to old-school norms, though some still dodge parental side-eyes,” she notes.
Talking to parents about sex is in (for the urban youth)
Gen Z is surprisingly open to discussing their sex lives (or rather, lack thereof) with their parents or someone older, even if a few still tread lightly.
Take 26-year-old Anwesha Chatterjee*. “I have been open about my relationships with my parents,” she shares. “My mom knows that I’m not a virgin—didn’t expect it, was not exactly happy about it, but doesn’t judge or chastise me for it, or thinks it would affect my ‘marriageability’,” she says.
Megha Suri, a 26-year-old brand strategist who recently got out of a relationship, says her mother gets where she’s coming from: “She and I are mostly on the same page, but obviously I don’t give her a play-by-play.”
Then there’s Kaira, who recognises the privilege that comes with being raised in an open environment, where nothing was off-limits. “The only thing my parents/family members/close friends enforced was responsibility. This was not limited to sex, but obviously these attitudes spilled over into every aspect of my life. By and large, it’s been like ‘have fun, don’t be dumb’.”
However, 22-year-old Kabir, who moved to the UK for his undergraduation but is back in Delhi with his parents now, has never had ‘that’ discussion with them. “Perhaps because I fear I’ll be lectured on it,” he grimaces.
Meanwhile, Aditya Kondapalli, a 21-year-old student from Ganapavaram (a village in Andhra Pradesh), scoffs at the idea. “It really depends on which part of India you live in, because people back home do not talk about this openly,” he shares.
Khanna explains how India’s economic crunch, which is keeping many young people at home longer, is sparking candid talks, especially in urban families. She mentions how her clients swap dating stories with tech-savvy parents: “A far cry from the hush-hush of past generations,” she says, adding, “But in conservative corners, silence still reigns, keeping this openness a city perk.”
Lead Image: Getty Images
This article originally appeared in Cosmopolitan India's July-Aug print edition.
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