A Sexless Life

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A friend recently told me the story of a woman who says she's in a sexless marriage--a topic that really scares me. I'm about to turn 28 and find that I'm still afraid to walk down the aisle...

I'm not afraid to be with one person for the rest of my life, in fact, I'm positive that I can stay with one person. The thought of having a family is nice, sharing a home and waking up with my partner, never being alone...it all sounds great. it's just the idea of legally committing to someone. There's something so un-romantic about that. Why can't we just choose to be together because we want to be together?

But besides my mental drama, I'm also afraid of a sexless marriage. I think we should all live for beautiful, loving, passionate intimacy otherwise, what would make us happy? What would inspire us? 

You hear about couples who live together for years. They have great sex, mediocre sex, bad sex, good sex...it's constantly evolving and changing. That's normal. But the couples who simply lose it. They just stop. That is deeply depressing to me.

I decided to read this woman's take on life without physical love and was so moved by it that I decided to share some of her writing with you.

Sex is vital to a good life. What? You thought you knew that? So did I. I knew sex reduced my stress level, added to my joie de vivre, helped me sleep more soundly, and that it made the mornings after sweeter. I knew that dependable, good sex was very important, even imperative to a good life and relationship. Going without sex led me to understand its meaning even more: I understand how it nourishes and comforts, touches the soul, sustains our natural rhythms. All of that was happening before, so I never examined the ‘how or why”. Going without sex now, I can see how the lack of it upsets each of those things.

Sex may not be a need like air, but it is needed. Yes, I can live without sex, I pretty much do, but I don’t live joyfully. It’s gotten harder, not easier to go without for so long. I need sex to live the life I wanted to live, to feel happiness to the potential I have within me, to carry me through life’s challenges and sorrows. I need sex like I need friends and conversation, like I need the sun and spring, like I need books and music. I need sex to make all of those things better, too. Some nights, sex is all I can think about. I ache to be desired and wanted, to give way to joy and abandon. There is no substitute for the moment when your lover reaches out for you with passion, or with love. Trust me on this, there is no substitute.

Sex holds you together when everything else is pulling you apart. Another given, but think about it for a gentle moment. How many times has that tender caress, that kiss that lingers just a bit longer, that flirtatious glance made you feel closer, safer, connected, a couple, united? How often has it been the bridge from anger to forgiveness, from stressed to relaxed, from lonely to loved? It works. Sex does the job it is supposed to do, fusing you as a couple. Sharing sex means exposing vulnerability, intimacies of the heart and body. You know secrets about each other that are beyond naked and truer than fact, learned during uncensored moments of bliss. Honoring and protecting those secrets is a gift to each other.

Sex makes me feel like a woman and nothing else really does. My career doesn't do that for me. Spending time with friends doesn't. Volunteering doesn’t. Wearing skirts and lingerie helps, but still....  sex? Oh yes. That's when I feel womanly and confident, aching to express my desire and eroticism, and ready to reveal the mysteries of my gender. Nothing else asks me to reach in and grasp the inner femaleness that flows so deep, that yearns to surface. Going without sex now, I sometimes feels less of who I am, less connected to my friends and other women, a little less relevant in the world. I feel distant from myself.

Sex allows you to communicate in ways that you cannot replicate in any other way.   What you can do with your fingers, your mouth, your hips.... all those luscious areas of the body that allow for expression that can't be articulated any other way. During sex you can whisper and tease and demand and beg with intonation and nuances that are not appropriate in any other setting. I miss this language so dearly and with such a vengeance that I have to continually monitor myself to be sure I don't do it in the wrong setting.  I have to say, honestly, this is probably what I miss the most – the language of sex.

Sex gives us some hope. Sex makes us hope, for more, for better, for different, for the same. During the good years, we had sex pretty regularly, as couples do. Thursday night? Always. Again on a weekend night and a weekend morning, even both weekend mornings. And then there was Tuesday, the bonus day. Tuesdays felt a little hopeful, a little romantic, a little sexy. I miss that feeling, wondering if it will be a ‘sex Tuesday’. I miss counting on sex on Thursday, and looking forward to weekend sex. Going without sex all the time adds a layer of drudgery to the week. Now it's just work, time after work, and then sleep. Same thing tomorrow. Same thing next week, next month, and next year. Sex adds that soft glitter to the winter’s gray, a soothing balm to the end of a long work day, a benevolent barrier to the world outside.

Sex makes me love my body. Watching, feeling, hearing a lover take pleasure in my body and receive it from my touch, these feelings are inimitable. A lover’s certain touch affirms me emotionally and physically. Knowing that my body and my own touch produce exquisite gratification and joy tell me I am a sexy, sensual woman. I appreciate my body and am glad for it, but I ache to express and enjoy its sexual potential.

Our sexuality is a gift of comfort and passion that we offer the world, an offer to sustain a love, to convey our essence from our soul.

To read her entire blog post, check out: This is What a Sexless Marriage Feels Like on open.salon.com.