I was fully into him and he was into me.
We were sexually unleashed, hot, and daring. Sometimes we had sex outdoors, sometimes in unusual places in our home, basically, we had a lot of sex.
Then, like a lot of women, my desire for sex five or six times a week for two hours at a time, diminished to 2 or 3 times a week – and even at that I was starting to feel a pressure to have more sex than I really wanted.
I was in love, so sex began to take a back seat to a deepening partnership, creating our home and generally being at ease together.
He was confused, clearly, by way of how he was acting.
Instead of being confident and playful as usual, he started to withdraw.
He started to act funny around me — like he’d become afraid of what I would do or say. I felt him thinking about sex but not acting on it, and all of the uncomfortable feelings that go with that.
When he’d approach me in the kitchen to connect, while I was doing dishes or cooking, it was with a creepy trepidation that wasn’t there before. His hands felt unsure, not pleasant, and made me want to scream.
I was simply adjusting to being in love – meaning needing less sex – but he wasn’t adjusting to anything of the sort! He was still rearing to go just as we always had. I didn’t know how to navigate the conflicting feelings I felt inside of me in response.
How do you talk to a man about your diminishing desire without it coming across as “I don’t want you?”
How do you explain to a testosterone-driven man that you just don’t need all of that sex anymore — cause you feel so fulfilled and warm just being in his arms or gazing into his eyes?
Would he see me as not sexual enough?
Would his love for me die a slow death as I expressed the new, more up-to-date me? What if it really was the sex he cared about most?
So, I didn’t say what I needed to say in that critical moment – that my feelings for him were growing, while my desire for sex was decreasing.
It was pure fear that held me back.
Maybe I wasn’t that steamy lover I first presented in her crotch-less panties and red heels. Maybe there had been something disingenuous in her enthusiasm for a lot of great, edgy sex. Maybe it was all a show.
My male coaching clients often tell me they feel tricked by women – women who, like me, start out hot and heavy, sexually, then cool off with an increasing loss of desire. When they chose to marry or commit to those women, it was with the idea that sex would be abundant, as it was at the start.
Many of those guys switch into high gear trying to fix the problem when they feel a shift — to return things to how they were. Many of them think it’s all their fault and it devastates their confidence and joy.
But what if a woman’s waning or changing level of desire is simply as natural as the ebb of the ocean?
What if it doesn’t need fixing, and doesn’t need to be feared, but looked at as a creative opportunity – one that (if navigated well) could inspire greater depth together, as lovers?
Sometimes this moment of tension becomes so much more than it needs to be – and ends up infecting the sexual relationship in irreparable ways. When, with awareness, the first challenging moment and subsequent challenges to sexual rhythm can be opportunities for deepening together.
My partner helped us to get to the bottom of our sexual awkwardness that had gone on for months. He finally asked me point blank what was going on for me and it was a huge relief. I felt his genuine interest and openness, which gave me permission to be totally honest with him. A beautiful and very frank discussion followed about how I was changing, and still wanting him– just differently.
We also talked about how we each wanted to take off the sexual masks and strike a deeper cord. I learned, by way of how he handled things, that his desire for me was far bigger than just sex . As a woman, that was very important to me. Our openness made me want him more, and made me want to reach for that next sexual possibility with him, with an open heart.