4 hours ago
3
Fi, 42
I worry that Will sees me more as a mother figure than a sexual being
The other morning, I woke up horny and suggested a quickie, but Will said he was too tired – it was too early. When I found him masturbating in bed the next day, I felt so rejected. I drove to work in floods of tears. I knew my feelings weren’t rational – there’s nothing wrong with masturbating – but they were real. All I could think was: couldn’t we have had those two minutes of intimacy yesterday?
I love sex and the connection it brings. I could have sex every day, but Will says no about 80% of the time. For me, sex creates closeness. For Will, the opposite is true: he has to feel close before having sex – and his depression, performance anxiety and low confidence mean his libido is lower than mine.
Until a couple of weeks ago, we hadn’t had sex in more than six months. My previous relationship was sexless for five years, and I don’t want to end up living with a friend again. But I’ve realised I played a part in that too. I find being vulnerable difficult, so instead of talking honestly about sex and how important it is to me, I put up a wall.
It’s hard to know how to drive sex when you have mismatched libidos. I usually initiate with a joke like, “Do you want to put your stick in my hole?” When he says no, I assume it’s my failure, that I asked in the wrong way. I worry that I desire him more than he desires me.
I also worry that Will sees me more as a mother figure than a sexual being. When we moved in together last autumn, our differences became more obvious. I was the fixer, the one who gets things done; Will was out of work and in bed for four months with a broken back. He felt worthless.
Finding Will masturbating led to the healthiest conversation I’ve had in a relationship. He understood that hearing how attracted he is to me isn’t enough – I need to feel desired through his actions. We’re back to having sex about once a week, which is enough for me to get the validation and reassurance I need. He’s teaching me how to slow down and open up more.
Will, 42
There’s a disconnect between my brain and my penis. I’d rather say no than feel as if I’m letting Fi down
I often ask Fi why she’s with me. She’s got everything sorted, whereas a lot of the time I see myself as nothing. Low self-worth and antidepressants mean there’s a disconnect between my brain and my penis. I overthink everything. What if I ejaculate too quickly? What if I can’t come at all? I’d rather say no than feel as if I’m letting Fi down.
We met on Hinge 18 months ago, at a time when I’d almost given up on dating. We went for a walk and I just knew she was right for me. My last partner was emotionally and physically abusive, so I really need to be able to trust that someone is honest and kind, and I felt that with Fi immediately. So did my daughter – and kids are very good judges of character.
Things changed after we moved in together. Life became more about house admin than sex, and I injured my back, which completely killed intimacy. I could barely walk; I couldn’t roll over in bed or reach my arm across Fi without excruciating pain; I wasn’t even allowed to pick up a bag of shopping. Fi kept telling me I was doing brilliantly, but I felt physically and mentally useless.
When Fi found me masturbating after I’d turned down sex, it wasn’t about choosing masturbation over her. I was doing it to try to get back to sleep. Sex with Fi is completely different – I need to be emotionally present because I care so much about whether she’s enjoying it too.
Even though we seem to be out of the rut now, Fi says she doesn’t want to initiate any more so she doesn’t get rejected. She worries it’s about her, but it isn’t at all – I think she’s amazing. But that’s part of the problem – because I don’t think I’m worth anything, being with someone amazing is overwhelming. I try to reassure her how incredibly sexy I find her, that I love her. And when we do have sex, it’s dynamite.
