How to deal with a difference in libido

Not tonight, darling! A difference in libido is a reality of many relationships and can cause great conflict. Grace Abelola, who has always wanted less sex than her husband, went in search of a solution

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How to deal with a difference in libido

My husband has always been the โ€˜high-libidoโ€™ partner in our relationship. Back in the chandelier-swinging early days, when I was up for it every night, he was still raring to go in the mornings. Now, 10 years married, I love him as much as ever, but our sex life has dwindled, along with my desire. These days, we make love about once a month โ€“ and that is with prompting.

While I know he is no longer raring for sex on a daily basis, I also know that he is not completely happy with the situation, and neither am I. But what can we do about it?

A mismatch in libidos is a fact of life in many relationships, but it is also a prime source of unhappiness and cause of divorce. One partner is unsatisfied, the other feels under pressure โ€“ itโ€™s a recipe for resentment. I want to find a better way to deal with it. I am hoping that Mike Lousada, a sex counsellor and psychotherapist, may be able to help.

Duty versus desire

Lousada starts off by reassuring me that our situation is far from unusual. โ€˜Some would argue that there is always a high-desire partner and a low-desire partner โ€“ thereโ€™s always an imbalance,โ€™ he tells me. โ€˜And the point is that neither one is better than the other โ€“ no position is right or wrong. But the person who is the low-desire partner generally controls the supply of sex in the relationship.โ€™

The question, Lousada says, is about โ€˜what kind of sex you want to haveโ€™. We talk about my dwindling interest in sex. He says he sees many women in my situation, who have lost their libido within a long-term relationship, and that, when they discuss their sex lives, they say it is all a bit mechanical โ€“ the men just want to get on with it. But that is not the case with us โ€“ my husband is the one who wants to linger and spend time, Iโ€™m the one who is often rushing things along.

Letting go is about vulnerability and trust, Lousada says. โ€˜Very often people who want to rush are afraid of intimacy. Foreplay is where all our vulnerability comes in.โ€™

We talk about my childhood, which set the blueprint for my experience of love. My father was fairly reliable but emotionally distant, while my motherโ€™s volatile personality meant her needs came first. Lousada points to the fact that I was emotionally self-reliant. โ€˜You had an experience where love is conditional โ€“ you got love if you were a good girl โ€“ which means you canโ€™t trust love because it is bought,โ€™ he says.

Respecting each otherโ€™s needs

Lousada takes me through an exercise from one of his courses, Know Your Sexual Self. We draw a diagram of an onion and its layers, and use it to unpeel motivations for sex, and the needs that underpin these.

He divides motivations into two types โ€“ โ€˜goldenโ€™ and โ€˜shadowโ€™. A golden motivation would be: I want to be connected; I want to feel loved. A shadow motivation, on the other hand, comes from a place of fear: it is my duty; if I donโ€™t, my partner will get his needs met elsewhere. โ€˜But, underneath these shadow motivations, there is still a core quality,โ€™ says Lousada. โ€˜I better have sex because otherwise heโ€™ll leave meโ€™ is a shadow motivation coming from a needy place but, if that need were to be fulfilled, the core quality would be a feeling of safety and security.

โ€˜The problem is that the strategy we are using to achieve that โ€“ sex โ€“ is not necessarily a healthy one. It is not that the need is wrong โ€“ safety and security are beautiful, and the need is natural and human โ€“ but it is better to try to meet it in another way.โ€™

I realise that, of course, Lousada is right. At some level, unconsciously, I see love as a transaction, and sex as a currency. I feel responsible for meeting my husbandโ€™s needs, fearing that otherwise he will leave me or have an affair but, at the same time, I know this is impossible while respecting my own needs. And so โ€“ inertia.

Keeping it real

So where do we go from here? I need to trust my husband and tell him what is going on, Lousada says. โ€˜It is about authentic communication. You have a choice โ€“ either you can close it down, or you can face it โ€“ itโ€™s uncomfortable but what if you stay with it?

โ€˜Ultimately all sexual issues are intimacy issues around the questions: can I really let you see me? Can I just lay myself bare? The more you can stay at that edge of feeling that vulnerability โ€“ feeling it in yourself and feeling it with your partner โ€“ the more youโ€™ll be able to work through that. Itโ€™s like a big bowl of spaghetti โ€“ tease out one strand at a time and go, thatโ€™s that bit and this is this bit,โ€™ Lousada explains.

And so I try. My husband was very interested when I said I was going to see Lousada. I think he liked that I wanted things to be different. Now I talk to him about what has come up and, immediately, it feels as if a wall has come down. We talk frankly and he tells me how much he has missed, not only sex, but also cuddling, touch, feeling wanted and desired. I tell him that I still very much desire him.

As the conversations continue, I realise that this whole mission was part of a bigger change for me, about a desire for greater authenticity and satisfaction in my whole life. I want our lovemaking to be heartfelt and never perfunctory. I never want to have โ€˜duty sexโ€™ again. This feels almost risquรฉ to say but, for my husband, it is welcome to hear โ€“ of course he wants the same thing and this shapes our sex life going forward.

Six months on, and the reality is that we are having only a little more sex than before, but the quality is transformed. I have sex only when I really want it, but immerse myself fully in the experience, and we are playing again โ€“ it is lovely. In between, I want to please my husband and meet his needs, and I enjoy finding different ways to do so.

Any resentment has been replaced with heartfelt goodwill. I recently read that for many higher-libido people in relationships, this is the core issue โ€“ it is the endless rejection that pushes them away, not the lack of sex. I hope we have found a way past it โ€“ a true compromise where both our needs are met.

Find out more about Mike Lousadaโ€™s courses at mikelousada.com

Nadia Smyth, 30, found the answer to a satisfying sex life was being open with her partner

I met Sam in my late 20s and knew he was special. But, a couple of months into our relationship, the amount of sex we were having dwindled. I loved him, but I really wanted sex four to five times a week. I didnโ€™t feel desired by him. So what was the solution?

Discussing it with a friend, I realised then that, despite my dissatisfaction, I was rarely the one who initiated sex. So, feeling nervous, I tried to be sexy. But all I got was a strange look from Sam, who was clearly wondering why I had started draping myself all over him.

Then I thought about what he does to initiate sex โ€“ he has a caring, unselfish approach, purely focused on the other person. So I thought about what turned Sam on, instead of just thinking about what I like. And, rather than prancing around expecting him to read my mind, I showed him through touch and words how much I wanted him.

I felt powerless before but, now I know I can make the first move, too, there is more balance. I hadnโ€™t considered that a clear, uncomplicated statement of my desire for him might boost Samโ€™s confidence. We are having sex a bit more often now and I feel better about it.

Read more on sex and relationships in our dedicated section. 

Photograph: iStock

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