This is how we do it: ‘How good he feels in himself has a big effect on his sex drive’

Stella, 31

When Gabriel and I first met, a year and a half ago, we were living in different countries. I was in a fallow period, and hadn’t had sex in months, but we slept together for the first time the next day. I don’t remember much about the sex – but I remember telling him I was out of practice.

Whenever I visited him, we’d have sex late into the night, skipping all the plans we’d made. When we were apart, we’d send each other videos of touching ourselves and share links to our favourite porn. But when I looked at the body of his favourite porn star I felt insecure and started crying, so that was the last time we did that.

Seven and a half months in, Gabriel moved to my city so we could be together. He didn’t feel confident in his new surroundings, and we soon fell into a pattern of having less sex. I discovered that how good he feels about himself is closely connected to his sex drive. Whereas I don’t think my self-confidence level has that much effect on my own sex drive.

I crave physical connection when I’m feeling insecure, which can cause a disconnect. When I’m seeking validation, I need Gabriel to show he’s sexually attracted to me by taking the lead, but if he’s not in the headspace for it we end up in a stalemate, where neither of us feels desired by the other.

In an effort to spice things up, he bought straps to tie me up in bed, which lay hanging from the mattress for months after, like a ghoulish reminder that we weren’t having the kinky sex we hoped we would. We now have sex about once a week, but can go weeks without either of us initiating. Sometimes, I just want to be objectified. I miss feeling his hands on me in the night and telling me he wants me, rather than I’m encroaching on his side of the bed.

I used to wait for him to initiate and I’d get frustrated when he didn’t, but now if I feel like we need to connect, I light candles or get out the massage oil. I’ve said that I’d like to have more sex in 2025, so I’m hopeful that this year will bring a deeper understanding of our desires.

Callout

Gabriel, 33

I met Stella on a weekend away while visiting friends. What started as a holiday hookup soon became meaningful. I’d been single for seven months and was dating a lot, but I was failing to find much intimacy. There was a vulnerability about Stella, which made me feel attracted and close to her from the start.

I’d done long distance before but it was nothing like this; I’d never had phone sex or exchanged such explicit nudes. Stella led the way, encouraging a more open version of sexuality that felt new to me. I admired her boldness and felt emboldened to reveal more of myself. It felt safe but still exciting.

We spent the first seven months in this rhythm, building up anticipation for the next time we would see each other. When we’d reunite, we would try to squeeze in as much sex as possible to make up for the droughts.

Looking back, this dynamic probably set us up for disappointment down the line, but sex with Stella is always hot and adventurous without feeling contrived. We’re still finding new ways to express ourselves in the bedroom, though perhaps less regularly than when we first started living together a year ago.

I mainly put this down to my libido, which can fluctuate depending on the current health of our relationship, as well as my own mental state. When my life feels out of balance, I’m that insecure kid again, which makes me feel unattractive and not up for having sex. It’s probably a form of self-flagellation, too; like I’m undeserving of intimacy if I’ve been unproductive or have not taken care of myself. Stella gives me space and support at these times, knowing that adding pressure would only make things worse. It’s this mutual vulnerability and closeness that made me fall in love with her in the first place.