How did we end up here? Is this really a sexless marriage?

So far apart, yet still in the same bed. Not sleeping, and definitely not sleeping together. There’s no intimacy here. Just two bodies, resting side by side. No longer connected by passion or lust, just coexisting in a sea of adulthood and responsibility.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

In the early days it was not like this. Sex was the priority, over sleep, over everything else. It was all I could think about. A stolen moment between reality, just me and him, our bodies ready to go from the anticipation.

It didn’t matter to me if I smelled like him for the rest of the day. Emerging from secret hiding places with messy hair and massive smiles. I didn’t care what time we fell asleep, as long as we were entangled. Every opportunity taken to be as close as possible, to connect on the most intimate level.

Now, this isn’t my first rodeo and I know enough about long-term relationships to know that lust doesn’t last forever. But this time felt different, more intense than ever.

As the thrill of making a baby replaced the dizzy days of chasing the sex high, I was smug. We were different, things were never going to change. I kept the details of optimum ovulation to myself and as far as he was concerned, our spontaneous passion and great sex life remained undamaged by the passing of time.

Then came the babies, the many hormonal changes and the heavy burden of responsibility. The simple reality of a long term relationship set in. Somewhere inside all of that, things just stopped being so sexy.

The decline in our sex life was slow at first.

Sometimes a few days would pass, but we both remained comfortable in the knowledge we were simply busy and both still wanted the same thing. But then, more often than not it would be a week and I found myself mentally logging the date to ensure it didn’t become any longer. Not out of lust, but out of fear. Was this the beginning of the end? Is this where sexless marriages start?

Were we losing our spark? The porn-star days were gone and as the excitement and thrill slowly drained away, the space between sessions and our emotional connection grew. I didn’t want to jump him any more, I just wanted him to unload the dishwasher and for me to have a full night’s sleep.

Now, here I am, ten years in and alone in the dark. There’s a body next to mine, but not one I know. So far away, so distant. I’m scared to cuddle up and engage, what if he wants sex? Now? The contradiction of wanting to be close but desperate to not be touched, torments me.

The urge has gone along with the passion. I can’t help but wonder what has happened to my libido? Or is it just a fact of life, as the anticipation of his touch is replaced with familiarity, routine and comfort. Pyjamas and trackies have replaced sex undies and nudity.

He farts, rolls over and goes to sleep.

This is not what I want, and I’m pretty sure he feels the same.

Sex is ours, the closest we can physically and emotionally be.

Of course you can connect over lots of things, it doesn’t have to always be physical. But for us it was our bond. Something sacred, something we don’t do with anyone else. A moment in time for just us, to connect for pleasure, to enjoy each other. When we don’t have sex it’s not just the physical bond between us that breaks down, something else disappears too.

Our closeness is missing, we’re no longer a team, no longer on the same page. It’s not us against the kids (when parenting feels tough), it’s every man for themselves. I can see the burden of financially supporting the family pressing down on him harder than ever.

It’s like we’re playing tennis on two different courts. Unable to reach each other.

If we both want the same thing — more sex and a stronger connection — but we’re both knackered and totally out of practice, the question remains: is it possible to save a sexless marriage?

And when exactly are we meant to have more sex? It feels as though the window of opportunity has all but disappeared. Our evenings are filled with teenagers who stay up later than us, and mornings with toddlers demanding breakfast as they climb into our bed. The thought of daytime sex feels inconceivable, like watching a movie in the middle of the day or having a nap. And as I crawl into bed at the end of the day, all I really want is to go to sleep.

And then I remember –

I once read an article that a woman’s sex drive will grow or shrink in relation to the amount of pleasurable sex she is actually getting. It’s like any muscle – use it, or lose it.

Can I save my sex life and ultimately my marriage with more sex? Does sex really breed sex? Can we come back from the brink of a sexless marriage and jump start things with the most unsexy thing of all, a sex schedule?

It’s got to be worth a try. Here goes, nothing………..

Sex Everyday For One Week

Despite being slightly turned on from writing this and remembering all the amazing sex we once had, I’m nervous. I know as soon as I climb into bed, all I’m going to want to do is go to sleep. But on night one of my secret sex schedule, I resist the urge to wear pyjamas and slide up close to my husband. He gets the hint and takes the opportunity. We’re off to a good start.

The next day I have a fight with my brain. ‘We had sex yesterday, surely that’s enough for this week?’ But that’s not the plan. I make sure we go to bed at the same time and this time I make the first move.

Each night gets easier as the swirling lists inside my head seem to quieten and give space for pleasure. The fear of not getting enough sleep is replaced with desire and drive for sex. Soon the excitement of being near him returns and my low libido has transformed into something much more fun.

I find myself thinking about him during the day, and it has nothing to do with who’s on school pickups or dinner. As the memory of the night before flickers in my head, my skin feels alive, my heart rate quickens.

After five nights things are completely different.

We talk more over dinner, he seems to care more about what I have to say. We’re a team again. It’s us versus the world. Finally some perspective.

Rather than passing each other without touching, we stop and kiss. Not just a kiss but a moment where time stops. A kiss that takes priority over everything else. The kids giggle and try and squeeze in between us.

Now the reality is sex every day isn’t realistic, at least not for me. However, we’re finally back on track, back on the same page. Having sex every day made us slow down and step off the carousel that had become our long-term relationship. We took the time to touch each other, to put each other first and remember how great physical touch is. We’re emotionally connected again and it feels so good. I can see how easy it is to not prioritise intimacy, or each other.

I’ve made a promise to myself and to him, that whenever it feels like we’re drifting apart and the sex is missing from our relationship, we’ll fire up the sex schedule and jump back into bed.