While the average person loses their virginity in their late teens, this is not true for everyone. "Joseph", who is 60 and a widower, found it was a source of great shame and frustration. Here he shares his story.

Axar.az reports citing BBC.

I remained a virgin until my late 30s. I have no idea how unusual that is but I experienced a sense of shame, and I felt stigmatised.

I was a terribly shy and anxious person, but not isolated. I always had friends but I was never able to translate that into intimate relationships.

At school and sixth form I was surrounded by girls and women, but I never made the kind of move that is probably quite a normal one to make.

By the time I reached university, my pattern was set - not having relationships was what I expected. A lot of it was due to a lack of self-esteem and a deep sense that people would not find me attractive.

If you go through your late teens and early 20s without going out with people, you don't have the evidence that builds up and says: "Yes, people can like me because look: I've had that girlfriend and that girlfriend." That allows the sense that you are unattractive to persist and to be reinforced.

I never spoke to my friends about it, and they didn't ask. I would have been quite defensive if they had, to be honest, because I was developing a sense of shame about it.

It may not be true that society judges people for not having sex. But I think when anything is perceived to be outside of normal then it's liable to be seen as deviant in some way.

I feel there's a cultural investment in "success" with women - if you think about popular songs and films, of coming-of-age movies, they will quite often be about early relationships and there's a cultural "thing" about becoming a man. If you think about the Frankie Valli song "Oh what a night" it's the sense that she took the boy and turned him into a man.

All of that promoted in me a sense of shame.

Most of my friends had girlfriends. I watched from the sidelines while they were starting relationships and, later, getting married. That had a corrosive effect on my self-esteem, in a drip-drip way.

I was lonely and quite depressed - although I didn't recognise it then. That might have been about not having a sexual relationship, but it was also about a lack of intimacy.

I look back now and for about 15, probably 20 years, I really wasn't touched by a human being or held by anyone apart from immediate members of my family, like my mum, my dad and my sisters. Apart from that, any sort of physical, intimate contact was absent. So it's not just about sex.

If I saw somebody who I fancied, I didn't feel any excitement or pleasure - instead, my instant reaction was one of sadness and depression. I had a sense of hopelessness about it all.

I didn't have a fear of rejection - the idea of rejection was irrelevant because I was so certain that no-one would be reciprocating any attraction I felt.

It might have been a defence mechanism on my part, but I developed a deep feeling that it might be wrong to approach women and that it might be an imposition on them. I was certainly never going to be that guy who "used" women.

I felt women had the right to go about everyday life and enjoy a night out without having anyone approach them.

I often became friends with women I was attracted to. I'm sure many of them were completely unaware of my romantic feelings.

At the time I would have been certain that they didn't want me. From where I stand now looking back, I honestly don't know. I don't think I had the attractiveness of confidence.

A woman never asked me out - that would have been nice! Perhaps it was less acceptable to do so at the time.

I became clinically depressed in my mid-to-late-30s, so I saw my GP and I was prescribed antidepressants, and I also started having counselling.