Porn teaches performance. Friends teach bravado

An Interview with Sexologist & Educator Elena Varga

Elena Varga doesn’t whisper when she talks about sex.

We met her between seminars — tired, sharp, and very honest.

At 32, she’s built a career that lives somewhere between psychology, education, and cultural rebellion. One week she’s holding a packed seminar in Berlin, the next she’s hosting intimate workshops in Barcelona, Amsterdam, Copenhagen, or Los Angeles. Her suitcase is always half-unpacked. Her calendar is always full.

Officially, she’s a trained sexologist and psychologist. Unofficially, she’s the woman thousands of young people credit with teaching them what no one else ever did.


Elena, you’re constantly on the move. Why not just stay online and teach from a screen?

Because bodies don’t live on screens.

Social media is how people find me, but it’s not where the real work happens. Online, people consume. In person, they confront themselves. You can feel the room change when someone realizes they’re not alone in their thoughts.

That moment doesn’t happen in a comment section.


You’re outspoken about where young people actually learn about sex. What are you seeing?

Porn. Friends. Partners. Silence from adults.

That’s the real curriculum.

Porn teaches performance. Friends teach bravado. Partners teach trial and error. And schools? They teach anatomy like it exists in a vacuum.

Young people aren’t confused about what sex is. They’re confused about desire, shame, comparison, and whether their thoughts make them broken.


You’ve said schools “miss the point.” What do you mean by that?

Schools teach facts. Curiosity lives somewhere else.

No one raises their hand in class to ask:

  • “Why does this fantasy turn me on?”
  • “Why do I freeze when someone touches me?”
  • “Why do I want something I’m ashamed of?”

So those questions go underground. And when curiosity goes underground, shame grows.


Your courses are known for being… direct. What actually happens in them?

People expect techniques. That’s not what they get.

They get:

  • Language for desire
  • Tools for boundaries
  • Permission to explore without rushing
  • Skills for talking about sex without apologizing

We talk about anatomy and psychology, yes — but also about how to be alone with your body without judgment. How to say “I’m curious” instead of “I’m weird.”

It’s structured, evidence-based — and deeply human.


You talk openly about fetishes and fantasies. Some critics say that’s dangerous.

Suppressing them is what’s dangerous.

Almost everyone has fantasies. The problem isn’t the thoughts — it’s the silence around them. People think they’re the only ones imagining certain things. They aren’t.

I don’t encourage people to act on everything. I encourage them to understand what’s happening inside them. Desire doesn’t disappear because you ignore it. It just gets louder — or heavier.


What’s the hardest thing for people to admit in your seminars?

That they’re afraid to be fully known.

Sharing a fantasy feels like handing someone a weapon and hoping they won’t use it. Especially with a partner. People are terrified of being judged, rejected, or misunderstood.

So we practice communication without expectation. Curiosity without pressure. Saying no without feeling cruel.

Sometimes the bravest thing someone does in my courses is say:
“This is as far as I want to go.”


You also address mismatched desires between partners. That’s controversial.

Reality is controversial.

Not everyone wants the same things. Love doesn’t erase difference. I teach people how to explore understanding without forcing alignment.

You’re allowed to be curious about your partner’s fantasies without sharing them. You’re allowed to say no. You’re allowed to explore on your own.

Consent isn’t just about sex. It’s about emotional safety.


Why do you think your work resonates so strongly right now?

Because people are exhausted from pretending.

We live in a hypersexualized culture that still punishes honesty. Everyone is expected to be confident, experienced, and unbothered — while feeling deeply insecure inside.

My work says: You don’t have to perform your sexuality. You can learn it.

That’s radical for some people.


If someone is reading this and feeling exposed — what would you tell them?

That curiosity is not a flaw.

Desire doesn’t make you shameful.
Boundaries don’t make you boring.
Talking about sex doesn’t mean you owe anyone access to you.

Sexuality isn’t something to master.
It’s something to understand.

And understanding changes everything.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *