I Told My Girlfriend How She Makes Me Feel in the Bedroom. I Might’ve Done More Harm Than Good.
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Dear How to Do It,
My girlfriend and I have been together for about three months. We were on FaceTime a few days ago, when I told her that it really hurts me when I feel sexually led on by her, but then there’s no follow-through. I tried to say it was just how I was feeling and wasn’t an attack. She took it really poorly, felt awful about herself, and ended the call suddenly.
After that, she asked for space, and for a day or two, communication dropped a lot. She was still Snapchatting me but not really talking, which honestly made me feel abandoned and anxious, especially because I was far away and already feeling alone. I apologized because I never meant to hurt her, and she eventually told me she was sorry for ghosting and that she still loves and cares about me, even though she’s still hurt and not happy with me. Since then, our conversations have just been slow and cautious—light Snaps, short messages—and it’s been really hard sitting in the uncertainty, especially with my birthday coming up. But I’ve been trying to respect her space, while also taking care of myself. It feels like we’re not broken up, but we’re in this fragile pause where both of us are hurt and trying to figure out how to feel safe again. Where do we go from here?
Couples therapist Sarah Gundle covered the “just how I was feeling” maneuver recently in a piece for the magazine. What you’re relaying in the second line of your letter seems very much along the lines of what Gundle writes about, so read her piece to get an even better understanding of why your approach was flawed. Even when “I statements” are executed according to technical specifications, they can still land poorly or be superficial to the point of failing to achieve the aim. There’s never a guarantee of conversational success, but you probably would have had a more productive discussion if you’d specified the type of hurt you experience (rejection, confusion, etc.) and framed the catalyst as having to do with a disconnect around whether flirting or foreplay should always lead to what you’re describing as “follow-through.”
Another approach with a decent chance of actual communication is to put yourself in your partner’s shoes, make an educated guess as to what might be different about their worldview, and then ask whether your guess is correct. An example would be, “Do you enjoy flirting for the sake of flirting?” That sort of question usually elicits some kind of response with information, and can lead to a discussion and, crucially, a deeper understanding of your partner.
It sounds like the two of you are in a long-distance relationship. If that’s the case, know that even long-distance relationships between emotionally mature people with solid social networks outside of their relationship are hard. When most of your communication takes place through text, your written communication skills have to be excellent in order to handle emotional hiccups well, and when you aren’t together in person often, you aren’t able to have much of the physical connection or shared activities and adventures that make up a lot of the joy of a relationship.
You don’t give details about what your apologies were like. If it was mostly repetitions of “I’m sorry” and “I’m so sorry,” you probably communicated regret effectively. But if there wasn’t an understanding of which of your actions caused and exacerbated conflict, how those actions contributed to the blow-up, and a plan or actions already taken toward doing better next time, you’re likely going to end up in this situation again. It’s the same on your girlfriend’s side of things. It’s hard to feel safe—to trust each other to do your best in the future—when neither of you has an understanding of how you made mistakes in the interaction that just happened.
If you think you’ll both be able to have a conversation about what happened, listen to what felt bad for your partner, and gently and clearly articulate what felt bad for you, start there. Then consider, together, whether the two of you want to try to make this work long-term. If so, talk through what happened in the style of a “blameless postmortem.” The goal is to understand where the system malfunctioned, what the points of vulnerability in your relationship are, understand the most effective changes that are actually possible to strengthen those points of vulnerability, and then implement them. As with all relationship agreements, these plans can be revisited and changed if they aren’t working as well as you’d hoped. But it’s a starting point. If you don’t think you’re up for that talk, there’s no shame in dissolving a relationship after three months. Even when there’s genuine love involved, the kinds of respect, appreciation, and desire for that person to live their best life that usually come with love sometimes mean stepping away from a relationship that is causing more harm and strife than peace and support.
Regardless of whether you stay in this relationship or move on, do take a look at why feeling sexually led on leads to you feeling hurt when there’s no follow-through. In the spirit of blameless postmortems, I’m assuming positive intent on your part, but the way you’re phrasing that raises some concern. Getting to the root of what you’re trying to say will probably help you in the future.
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Dear How to Do It,
I am 73, and my gynecologist tells me that hormone replacement will skyrocket my risk of stroke. I have used vaginal estrogen, which works quite well for atrophy “down there,” but I have no idea how to overcome my lack of libido. I love my husband dearly, and he would love to have sex, but the whole idea fills me with distaste. I used to love penetrative sex, orgasmed easily and often, and now … I actively do not want it. Is there any kind of treatment for this? I read letters in this column from other old ladies talking with active sex lives; how do I manage this?
—Cuddles Seem to Be Enough
Dear Cuddles Seem to Be Enough,
There are options available for postmenopausal loss of libido other than hormone treatments. You’ll need to set some realistic expectations, though. We’re all complex and individual humans—especially when it comes to what hormones our bodies can handle, how the shifts we experience through our lifetimes affect our desires for sexual encounters, and what the contexts of our relationships are. While it is unlikely that your sex life will return to exactly how it was at the beginning of your marriage, there are several potential paths toward enjoyable and connected physical intimacy.
If you’re able to get some specifics around what it is about sex that feels unwanted and distasteful now, you and your husband can likely get creative about what mutually acceptable—or even fulfilling—sex might look like moving forward. Most of us have fairly firm definitions of what is and is not sex, but those definitions can include everything from absolutely requiring vaginal penetration with a penis to interactions that completely exclude genitals. People in long-term relationships tend to develop routines for intimacy, and those routines can often make it difficult to envision all the other possibilities for sex. This relies on a presumption that your husband cares whether you’re at least OK with the sex the two of you might have (and if that presumption is wrong, then that’s the issue to start with).
Consider what each of you wants out of sex, and think about what you appreciated about sex in the years before it turned you off. Collaborate on ways that the two of you can give each other those feelings and sensations while staying within each other’s boundaries. If you’re able to do this together without outside support, bravo. But know that there are sex therapists, counselors, and coaches—some of whom may specialize in older populations or postmenopausal women—who can provide structure and encouragement, whether that’s in the format of couples counseling or one-on-one work with you. I spoke with Dr. C, also known as the Vag Doc, a board-certified OBGYN who creates educational content on TikTok and Instagram, who suggested that cognitive behavioral therapy can also help you unwind any habits or thought patterns you’ve built that are now getting in the way.
Dr. C was also able to speak to medical options that you can talk about with your doctor. If you aren’t already using your topical estrogen on your clitoris in addition to other areas of your genitals, start there—that will likely increase blood flow and therefore sensation, sensitivity, and hopefully, interest in sex. Intrarosa, a vaginal insert, helps improve vaginal tissue and can often decrease discomfort and improve genital sensation. Addyi, a daily oral medication now FDA approved for low libido in postmenopausal women, is worth considering—it’s shown to slightly increase instances of pleasurable sexual interactions, and to increase general desire (you can read about one woman’s experience taking it here).
A second opinion on estrogen and progesterone hormone replacement is worth seeking out, too. Testosterone is another possibility to look into, and “is listed by the American College of Gynecologists as an accessible option for hypoactive libido for women including into their later years,” Dr. C said, though it isn’t FDA approved for women, and Dr. C strongly cautions against the pellet method as it can lead to overtreatment and symptoms like acne, hair loss, aggression, vocal deepening, and more. Topical testosterone does still carry the risk of side effects, and bloodwork is important to gauge whether you’re overshooting the mark. Lastly, there are tools like the FDA-approved Eros clitoral suction device and vibrators commonly known as “clit-suckers” such as the Womanizer that are shown to increase clitoral sensitivity, which, in turn, can increase desire.
It’s also worth considering whether there’s some other factor at play, such as lifestyle, medications, or mental health changes that might be related to being postmenopausal or be completely independent of that. First, you will need to see at least one doctor to answer those questions and to get more information about any of the medical options listed above.
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Dear How to Do It,
I’m a mid-40s husband to my 40-year-old wife. We’ve been married for 12 years and have no children or pets. Something happened pretty much right after getting married. My wife stopped finding me sexually attractive, or that’s what I’ve deduced over the years. My wife and I have sex, on average, three times a year (I’ve been counting the last decade), but by this stage, that’s not really what’s killing me.
My wife completely stopped looking at me with any sort of desire, playfulness, or naughtiness. She’s given me one compliment in 12 years, which I’m still riding on (apparently my bum looks good in jeans, yay!). We’ve never had make-up sex, we’ve never had angry sex, we’ve never had spontaneous, I-need-you-now sex. She seems indifferent and happy to live life like this. She joked to me the other night at dinner, “I don’t know if you’ve realized, but I haven’t swallowed in over a decade!” What’s strange is that when we do have sex, the anxiety surrounding this event makes it completely loathesome and unenjoyable—it’s just not fun. That said, aside from this, we have a wonderful relationship otherwise. We spend every minute we have free together, but I feel like I’m dying inside. Not feeling wanted, and feeling empty and worthless, consumes me.
We’ve done couples therapy, and I’ve expressed my acknowledgement to her that she doesn’t find me attractive (she didn’t rebut or even lie). It’s not that she doesn’t want to have sex; it’s that she doesn’t want to have sex with me (again, she didn’t rebut or even lie to spare my feelings). Whenever I have a bit of a meltdown and express these frustrations (every few years), she sighs and says, “Here we go again, you’re so hard done by,” and calls me “dramatic.” The last time she called me “vulgar.” What I don’t like is what this has done to me; I’ve grown resentful, spiteful, and bitter toward her (however, I keep my feelings to myself, safely buried). I don’t know what to do.
Dear Empty and Stuck,
Your feelings of resentment, spite, and bitterness are not safely buried—you describe them as consuming you, and yourself as dying inside. Keeping something buried is a far cry from it not bothering you or being something you’ve moved on from. The desire disparity you describe can often be relatively simple to work through itself, but those conversations and negotiations can’t happen in good faith when your wife is responding to your frustrations with sarcasm and shaming, and you’re hoping she will lie to you so you can feel better.
I’m having a hard time understanding how the two of you can be this harsh with each other on the subject of sexuality—how she can speak to you about your desires in this manner, and you can walk around with boiling angst and anger—but otherwise have a wonderful relationship. While I don’t echo your wife’s accusation that you’re being “dramatic,” you do seem to be having a lot of big feelings here. Those kinds of big feelings can interfere with our ability to understand the situations, dynamics, and relationships we’re in—especially when we tend to repress those emotions.
To move past feeling stuck, you’re going to have to decide whether to leave your marriage, push for a different sort of attempt at changing the sexual aspect of your relationship, or accept the status quo and find other ways to feel wanted and worthy. I strongly encourage you to work through those options in individual therapy. We’re talking about a 12-year marriage, here. You want to make your decisions in as calm and methodical a manner as possible. If therapy isn’t an option, show your math on your description of the rest of your relationship as wonderful. Try to explain how it is wonderful despite the awful interactions you have around intimacy. Consider how you speak to each other about other difficulties, such as financial issues or future planning, and also small disagreements like which way the toilet paper should unroll. Think it through, and then make your choice.
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