What it's like living in a sexless relationship

You’ve seen it a thousand times. On a sitcom, there’s the husband hinting at sex while his wife feigns a headache or playfully brushes him off. That’s how it’s supposed to go, right? The husband is a cartoon wolf, panting and pining for sex. The wife is too tired, too civilized, or completely disinterested in carnal relations. Right??? 

Not in my bedroom. We met the better part of a decade ago. I made him wait two whole weeks before we slept together. I wanted him to want it – want me – so badly he couldn’t stand it. When I finally whispered to him one morning that I was ready, he wasn’t. It struck me as a little odd. Weren’t men sex hounds? Aren’t they always ready to bone? He said he was just nervous, so we postponed. 

A few nights later, we tried again. Success! I assumed we’d continue having fun, experimental, sexy sex at least three times a week. Instead, I found myself trying and failing to seduce him. I was the aggressor, the initiator. And I was getting turned down, repeatedly. 

I was a late-bloomer — I was pushing 30 by the time I finally convinced someone to kiss me and I had only had sex with one other man before I met my husband. So, I wasn’t well-versed in the art of seduction and I certainly wasn’t a sexpert. Steadily dating a man who wasn’t interested in sex was uncharted territory. I didn’t have years of experience and confidence in my sexual prowess to reassure me that my worth was not tied to my new boyfriend’s low libido. 

It HAD to be my fault. I’m too fat, too needy, not sexy enough. Whatever the problem was, I would fix it. 

I lost weight, I bought sexy underwear, I played it cool. None of it inspired a more powerful sex drive. Never, in all my years, had I heard — nor had it occurred to me that a man could be affectionate, loving, kind, funny, sweet and mostly uninterested in sex. That wasn’t the narrative I found in books, TV shows, movies, or my friends’ relationships. 

“It HAD to be my fault. I’m too fat, too needy, not sexy enough. Whatever the problem was, I would fix it. ”

“Men only have one thing on their minds.“

“If he’s not getting it at home, he’s gotta be getting it from somewhere.”

“Men think about sex every 7 seconds.”

Sometimes the truth isn’t reality

These “truths” echoed in my brain every time I allowed myself to entertain the notion that perhaps it wasn’t my fault. Even the all-knowing Google was woefully bereft of helpful information. Low libido in men is chalked up to a temporary situation as a result of stress, illness, alcohol consumption, pornography addiction, or something easily remedied by starting or stopping pharmaceuticals. 

On the rare occurrences I heard friends speak on the topic, they complained about not having sex for three or four weeks at a time. We were averaging once every six to eight months with the record being two years of celibacy. 

We started going to therapy. Still operating under the assumption that I was the problem, I cried and begged him to tell me what I was doing wrong. He reiterated that he just wasn’t that sexual of a person. I couldn’t reconcile this information with all of the world’s anecdotal evidence to the contrary.

My own therapist recently reassured me that I’m not alone. It’s not uncommon for men to have a low sex drive – what is uncommon is talking about it. 

Our relationship is fun and supportive, and I’m still head-over-heels in love, but sex remains a major pain point. I’ve tried to ignore my desires and be happy with what we have but the longing remains. 

I want babies. 

I want the fun, experimental, sexy sex. 

I want to feel wanted and desired by my partner. 

Masturbation can’t scratch that itch. 

And the thought of opening our relationship up feels too painful to explore. 

So, we continue our therapy and I wait, holding out hope. 

The writer who contributed article has requested to remain anonymous.