"I'd be fine to never have seks* again.."

*Per some readers’ requests I’ve altered the spelling of some words to bypass their filters.

One of the most common complaints we hear from clients is that one partner would be perfectly happy if seks disappeared from their lives. (This complaint could come from either partner or both.)

In fact, we hear this so often that it’s a question I’ll often ask clients who present with seksual aversion, disinterest, or low desire, to gauge their association with the experience:

If a global rule came out that prohibited seks forevermore, how would you feel about that? The answers range from thrilled to relieved to indifferent to ambivalent to disappointed to devastated and more.

This feeling of “I’d be fine to never do it again” would certainly be understandable for many people who present with seksual aversion, post-trauma responses, broader relationship problems, or physical pain.

But it’s often also true of many who report not hating seksual activity, even sometimes among those who enjoy it.

Yet we can probably all relate to having tried certain activities, had a nice time, but feel no specific need to do it again, or make it part of a regular schedule, and for some, that’s how they feel about seks.

For those who crave seksual activity intensely, constantly, and/ or regularly, this attitude can sound very foreign, and for more amorous partners, it can feel hurtful and rejecting.

They may wonder:

“Maybe if you really loved me/ were attracted to me, or felt more love and attraction to me, you would have more desire, and enough pleasure that you’d want this the way I do.”

Sometimes that can be true, but not always.

Humans are social creatures, but we are wired somewhat differently from one another in terms of attachment, desire, intimacy, arousal, and pleasure.

Many partners are constantly trying to explain: “I do love you, I just don’t love having seks!”

In clinical settings, this phenomenon is often called HSDD, hypoactive seksual desire disorder.

But in world where we simultaneously hear a lot of pathologizing and normalizing, it can sometimes be confusing to gauge how and where along the spectrum of experience we label something a “disorder” versus “a significant but normative minority.”

One analogy we hear sometimes is that for some people, it feels like deciding whether or not to go swimming. It can be fun, cute for once in a while like on vacation, but often it's not really worth the time, effort, and sensory overload, especially when you're tired, overwhelmed, or otherwise unmotivated.

The West is a broader multi-culture where hyperseksualization is rampant, in both extremes- taking the forms of both radical liberation and obsessional suppression. Implied in both poles is a dominant narrative is that “normal people” crave seksual activity naturally and constantly, and therefore those who don’t are “othered”- either by their own shame or others’ judgment.

In our age of endless labels, the word “aseksual” (sometimes abbreviated to “ace”) was adapted to represent this orientation category, of someone who’s not so seksually oriented. And “grayseksual” was coined to mean infrequently or weakly interested, while “demiseksual” is a word used to describe those whose libido is exclusively activated by emotional connection. These are just a few of many contemporary terms used to represent different feelings about seksual interest. A full circle one that I recently learned is “pomoseksual”- meaning a post-modern rejection of seksual titles, for those who find all this jargon limiting and counterproductive. Most humans don’t fit exactly into near, consistent boxes anyway.

All this is interesting and theoretical when discussing individuals, but when you’re trying to navigate a committed relationship, it gets trickier.

Desire and pleasure discrepancies are not pathology; they’re the norm.

Extreme, misinterpreted, or high conflict discrepancies are the ones that create relational distress.

But most humans are programed to want connection and pleasure.

There are many variables that affect desire and ability to experience arousal and pleasure within each person and relationship, some obstructing and others amplifying.

Libidos, just like thoughts, feelings, relationships, opinions, and bodies, shift and change throughout life stages. What once felt unpleasant might later feel good and vice versa.

There are also many ways to intentionally explore what might enhance a person’s or a couple’s experience of pleasure. More pleasure often leads to more desire, but not always.

One variable that’s fairly consistent is that pressure from a partner diminishes and even prevents pleasure.

Some say that if you’d be fine to never have seks again, that means you or your partner must be doing things wrong. But I think it might also be fair to say that it’s possible to re-educate, re-strategize, and work on improving the dynamics, pleasure, arousal, choreography, communication, and intimacy of a seksual relationship, without specifically viewing desire as the primary metric of satisfaction.

This can be done using bibliotherapy and self-help resources like books and courses, and/ or with the help of a qualified professional.

Whether you or your partner would be fine to never have seks again or not, if you’re in a relationship where you’re having it to some extent either way, it’s probably worth trying to learn what more can be done to help it feel as good as possible for both of you.

The resources link on this site has some recommended books on the subject. If you’re interested in working with a therapist, feel free to reach out to see if I can help, either to work together or to make a referral: speaktosomeone@gmail.com