ONE of my gay readers wrote to me that he has been reading up on the trinity of sex, love and intimacy. But in the end, he said that at the heart of these three lies a mystery. I guess it is the "mysterium tremendum" that my brilliant philosophy professor, the late Father Roque Ferriols, S.J., taught us when we were 18 years old and studying in Ateneo.

But now that we are in our 50s and 60s, the lens by which to view these three has changed. In the younger years, some people needed them with an almost painful hunger, and craved for them with almost fatal results.

Media, both traditional and social, as well as pop culture, have primed us for the importance of sex the moment we become teenagers. Men roam around, testosterone-heavy and biceps bulging with muscles, out to conquer the world. Women pretend to be coy and indifferent, even if the wild butterflies of desire flit about them, in their waking life and in their dreams. But when people reach their 20s, they can choose to be sexual or not.

Dr. Peter Koestenbaum writes in "Existential Sexuality: Crossing to Love," that "Human beings are not only by nature sexual ... but choose to be so. Sex is a natural urge, but the role it plays in your life and the importance you attribute to it ... is a matter of choice."

But when you're 18 years old with galloping gonads, there seems to be no choice. In "The New Celibacy: A Journey of Love, Intimacy and Good Health in a New Age," Dr. Gabrielle Brown notes that "most of us decide in favor of being sexual as much as possible because we've been taught that sex is the road to personal fulfillment.

"But this is one of the most destructive myths about sex. But no matter how great one's partner is, sex does not bring fulfillment. And if something more deep or permanent is desired in the expression of love and one does not even experience it, one may feel unfulfilled, even saddened by the sexual act. There is a clear psychological description of this thing called 'postcoital tristesse,' or sadness after sex."

This sadness takes different shapes. I get email and Facebook messages from people — gay and straight — who tell me in capsule form their experiences. One gay man goes to a bar at 1 a.m. of a Sunday, meets someone in the back room and makes out there, then he goes home at 4 a.m., just in time to meet people who are on their way to work, or going to Mass.

Another straight man tells me of going from one massage parlor to the next, paying women with fake names to "unclog" him of the stresses of the day. A married man, even before "My Husband's Lover" became a phenomenon on Philippine TV, has a boyfriend of five years. He loves his boyfriend because he is the complete opposite of the woman he calls his wife.

When he comes to his boyfriend's condo, the boyfriend meets him with a kiss, a change of clothes, food warm and already set on the table. They share stories of the week just past, laughing and teasing each other, warm in the company of love. Then they watch a Thai boys' love show streaming on YouTube, and he stays over for the night.

And the wife? He describes her as one big mouth full of teeth like the teeth of sharks. In this case, he is sad because of his uncaring wife, and happy because of his sweet boyfriend.

Dr. Brown continues: "Such is the loneliness of the sexual seeker who continues to search for personal liberation in a series of static encounters. In this fixed pattern of behavior, there is always a feeling of futility, of going nowhere."

But this search isn't a dead end by itself. At least, you're aware that you're looking for something, not just learning how to have sex, but learning how to love.

And why am I writing about sex, love and intimacy on Easter Sunday? Won't it rile again the sensitivities of judgmental old people who have soured into something like vinegar?

Well, this column is also in celebration of the passage of same-sex marriage, or marriage equality, in Thailand. It is the first country in Southeast Asia to allow marriage equality among their citizens.

And it is also a reminder of what Anvil, my publisher, has posted on Facebook as a way of greeting me on my birthday last March 25. They said that limited copies of my book "Bright. Catholic and Gay: Essays" are still on sale at onlinesales@anvilpublishing.com

With that, I want to wish my readers a happy Easter. May you have what the Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins said, "a freshness deep down things," for Easter means forever advent, and forever new.