How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Have a question? Send it to Jessica and Rich here. It’s anonymous!

Dear How to Do It,

I love my husband very much, but for reasons I don’t understand, I haven’t wanted to have sex with him for years. In the beginning, we were very passionate and his sex drive actually couldn’t keep up with mine. He’s more vanilla than I am and he shuts down if I ask him about his fantasies. Sex was never the best part of our relationship, though I really enjoyed it early on. I got pregnant after a few months of dating and we got married soon thereafter, though at the time, I was hurt and panicked because he did not want to have sex at all while I was pregnant, and I took it as a rejection. I had to flip a switch in my head to make myself not want sex anymore, either. We had a rough time after the baby was born and sex was infrequent, but it wasn’t until the past year or two that he told me he wanted more frequent sex.

Our marriage has been wonderful. We are best friends, he makes me laugh constantly, and we are raising our children beautifully together. But ever since way back when, I have not desired sex with him. We still do it one, two, or occasionally three times per week, but I don’t enjoy it. I don’t like the way his hands feel on me anymore, and I have to really psych myself up for it beforehand to have an orgasm, which is rare anyway. I do it for him because I truly love him, but also because he becomes morose if we go without sex for more than a week. If I correct course, it blows over, but if I reject him, he becomes passive-aggressive or angry, and has even yelled and told me that I would be “out on my ass” if he didn’t love me so much and I wasn’t such a good mother to our children. This is scary for me because I am a stay-at-home mom with nothing of my own to my name.

I have asked him to go to therapy, but he says this is my issue, that I need to do what it takes to “fix it,” and that I probably wouldn’t like what the therapist had to say about me. He thinks I am using him for my comfortable life, but that’s not true. I have mentioned during arguments that maybe instead of blaming and shaming me he could sleep with other people. I mean it, and I’d like to suggest that more seriously, but I do worry that he will just say that underscores the problem with me. Only very recently, I’ve been fantasizing about falling in love and having passionate sex again, not with anyone real, but not with my husband. I feel guilty for this but it has told me that I am capable of desire even though I don’t feel it for him.

Is there any hope for me to desire him again if I only see him as a best friend now? If we were to open our relationship, I think it would have to be one-sided. I could never suggest that I see other people because he would view that as a rejection. So if we go that route, I still won’t be fulfilled but at least it could take some of the pressure off of me.

—Rock and a Hard Place

Dear Rock and a Hard Place,

I believe that your letter is sincere, but I want to encourage more reflection. Relationships are complicated and to define them by certain factors or moments can result in dumbed-down distortion. This includes defining them by their best moments. A relationship in which you are certain to get yelled at when you turn your husband down for sex doesn’t strike me as entirely wonderful. That he sees your mutual sexual issues as yours alone is a huge red flag—even if he wants to argue that your disinterest is the source of them, he’s done nothing to improve them. He wants sex; you don’t. This is absolutely his problem, too, and a wiser man would understand that and go to therapy with you.

Yes, it is possible to reverse course and renew interest in a partner. Occasionally, we hear from people who have done it. New discoveries of kinks, positions, or fantasies could give your sex life a second wind, sure. But your situation strikes me as deeper than just being stuck in a temporary rut—one you’re not going to solve on your own. It seems highly unlikely that with the burden of this weighing on you, you’ll magically snap back into your old desire for him. The threat of getting yelled at if you don’t do what your husband says is detrimental to repairing things. I wonder to what extent he knows about your lack of interest—do your arguments arise from you being as upfront with him as you were in your letter, or is he gleaning that there’s an issue because sometimes you say no when he asks you for sex?

I can only interpret your fantasies about love and sex with another person as a call coming from inside the house. You may be ready to move on. I understand why that would be a challenge for you. Keep him at bay while you figure out how you’ll sustain yourself in the event that you do leave him (keep in mind that you may be entitled to child support and alimony, which should help with finances—a call to a lawyer would give you some clarity). Figure out a plan. Keep pushing for therapy, perhaps revealing more about what’s going on inside of you if you can do so safely. Maybe do go to solo therapy so that you can talk this stuff out with someone. I believe that you love your husband, but I don’t believe that you’ll solve this problem unless he starts extending you compassion, much like that which you extend to him as a matter of course.

Dear How to Do It,

I’m a woman in my early 50s. Three years ago, I left a long and sexless, but otherwise relatively good, marriage. I left primarily because I was not physically attracted to my husband, did not enjoy sex with him, and I couldn’t see spending the rest of my life not having enjoyable sex. While I do not regret my decision to leave my marriage one bit, I also didn’t realize how difficult it would be to find a good relationship with someone I am attracted to.

In the first year and a half after leaving my marriage, I dated and had a lot of sex with men of all ages. At the time, I was attracted to all of them and I would say that I enjoyed almost every experience. None of them has been exactly long-term relationship-ready though, which until recently had been fine as I was still discovering what I wanted in a relationship, where I wanted to live, learning to live alone, etc.

But now three years later, I know what I want (a healthy, monogamous, long-term relationship with a lot of touching and sex) but I’m having a really hard time finding it, primarily because I am no longer attracted to almost anyone. Even celebrities or other people I used to find attractive are no longer appealing. Any idea what’s going on and how to fix this? I don’t think I’m being too superficial and think this is more of a mental block than my standards being too high. I also meet plenty of new people and am willing to travel for love, so it’s not that I’m not meeting eligible men. Do I need to be less focused on immediate physical attraction? I tried that with my ex-husband and it didn’t work out for me. I also have tried it more recently in dating but the men have called me out on not being interested enough. And I’m not interested in sex without the relationship connection.

To add some more context, I have been dating one guy on and off this entire time and he is still my primary sex partner (we see each other a couple times per week and have sex a couple times per month). Let’s just say he is not a good match for a long-term relationship (we’ve tried it), but we enjoy each other’s company a lot. Sometimes I do wish we could be in a committed relationship but there is a huge age, income, and lifestyle difference we haven’t been able to overcome. The sex is hot because I am extremely attracted to him (primarily for his best personality traits like his playfulness), but otherwise, the sex is pretty vanilla and not super fulfilling for me. I sometimes wonder if my friendship with him is getting in the way of me being attracted to other men. I feel like I sound like a terrible person, but this issue really only affects my love life. In other areas of my life, I get along well with and enjoy spending time with all sorts of people and I’m generally happy.

—Not Attracted

Dear Not Attracted,

“Terrible person” did not cross my mind once when reading your letter (until you wrote it, that is). To me, you sound like a person who is trying and has found herself in a bit of a rut. Dating is hard, and you’re putting a lot of effort into it. I think right now, the best thing for you to do is to continue to meet and briefly get to know as many men as possible. You are attracted to your current guy, and it’s “primarily for his best personality traits like his playfulness.” These personality traits are at least less obvious than, say, a strong jawline or a firm ass. They take time to reveal themselves. Actually getting to know people may be key for you here. It’s time-consuming, sure, but for whatever reason, you’re particularly discerning so you may need to put in more work to find the perfect match. I don’t know if you’re demisexual, exactly, but it’s a possibility. You should read up on demisexuality and see if you relate to how people describe it—it might help you understand yourself a bit better.

It’s great that you currently have a guy at least for hot sex, but it is indeed possible that he’s getting in the way of things. You have monogamous tendencies, and you currently have a primary partner. Maybe you’re just not wired to be excited by others when you have someone you’re focusing on, even if your brain is telling you that you have no future with him. If that relationship is going nowhere, consider pausing it to pursue other men. If you find that you can’t quite give up the source of reliable and great sex, well, the process of finding a partner may be a very slow one. In general, I think you just need to have patience and keep at it. With all of the men you attract, at least having patience won’t be boring.

One final thought: Could perimenopause/menopause be affecting things? It’s possible. Both can have negative effects on your libido. I’m not sure it’s the case here, as you seem to have a sex drive just not enough suitable targets for it. But that might be something to keep an eye on anyway, just in case.

Send Us Your Questions About the Workplace!

The columnists behind our new advice column, Good Job, want to help you navigate your social dynamics at work. Does your colleague constantly bug you after hours? Has an ill-advised work romance gone awry? Ask us your question here!

Dear How to Do It,

I struggle with my choice of words whenever I attempt to discuss my sexual desires with my wife. If I use slang, it sounds objectifying and chauvinistic. If I use anatomically correct terms, it sounds clinical, medicinal, and, well, creepy. Any suggestions?

—Words of Love

Dear Words of Love,

Have you noticed what words your wife uses for her parts? If so, follow her lead. If not, why not ask her what she’s most comfortable with? Terms like “pussy” or “tits” may sound objectifying and chauvinistic to some ears, but others will have no issues with them. It could depend on several factors, including sensitivity and how turned on she is—in case of the latter, you might use different words at different times. More proper terminology like “vagina” and “breasts” may sound clinical, sure, but I think creepy is your own subjective interpretation. Those words are not objectively creepy. I understand if they aren’t quite sexy, but they’re definitely the ones to fall back on if you want to be safe and not offend your wife.

Again, this is something you could check with her. She may be open to whatever, or she may have very strong preferences. It’s important for you to be able to express yourself down to the word choice, but you also want to speak to be heard. Your language shouldn’t distract or come between you—the entire point of such a conversation is to bring you even closer, right?

—Rich

More Advice From Slate

My husband and I are bookend baby boomers. He, 18 years my senior, suffers from end-stage brain cancer. We have hired a live-in full-time caregiver, Benjamin, an attractive 41-year-old openly gay home health professional. We’ve known him for many years. In fact, Ben was the primary caregiver to my husband’s father until he passed away last year. He is warm and caring, nurturing to us both, kind and gentle, funny, and extremely personable—a real prince. Ben has become really part of our nuclear family, and we have both grown exceptionally fond of him…

Never miss new Advice columns

The latest sex, parenting, and money advice from our columnists delivered to your inbox three times a week.

Email address:

Send me updates about Slate special offers. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy and Terms.

Sign Up