When couples sit down in front of me and I ask them to describe their sex lives, nine times out of ten, we start with math. “We only have sex once a month,” “I want to have sex at least twice a week,” and so on. And honestly, it wouldn’t just be unfair of me to dismiss this way of measuring; it would be hypocritical. I’m guilty of the same thing, adding up numbers to explain my dissatisfaction, comparing my sex life to my friends’, or even trying to predict the health of my relationship. “Are we in trouble? We haven’t had sex in six weeks!”
So why do I, and so many others, turn to arithmetic when talking about sex? The answer is pretty simple: frequency is one of the easiest things to measure. It’s quantifiable and comparable, whether you’re chatting with friends over coffee or researching sexual functioning. And I won’t lie, some studies have found that how often you’re having sex does positively correlates with sexual satisfaction.
But here’s the catch: that correlation is usually small to moderate, and it tends to plateau. Muise and colleagues (2016), for example, found that having sex more than once a week doesn’t add much to overall satisfaction. What makes a far bigger difference? Communicating! Many studies (Byers, 2005; Fallis, Rehman, & Purdon, 2016; Velten & Margraf, 2017) have shown that open, honest sexual communication is a stronger predictor of satisfaction than how often you have sex. So let’s hear it for the, “I want you to…”s and the “I prefer…”s and the “Yes like that”’s. And if you find you struggle with sexual communication, you’re not alone, and better yet, it’s something we can help with.
Even great communication doesn’t stop desire from shifting over time. After all, there’s nothing quite like those first moments of falling in love. The highs and lows can feel like a powerful aphrodisiac. Remember the days when you couldn’t get enough? If that sentence brought a wave of nostalgia, grief, or even some shame, you’re not alone. Welcome to life after the limerence phase.
So, what is the limerence phase? It’s the early “honeymoon stage” of a relationship when you feel intensely infatuated, euphoric, and preoccupied with your partner, fueled by a rush of brain chemicals that make everything feel exciting and new. It usually lasts a few months to a year (if you’re lucky). After that, things settle, not because the relationship is failing, but because your brain is shifting from high gear to a steadier, more predictable attachment. There’s a reason romcoms skip the “happily ever after”: what’s so thrilling about picking your partner’s socks off the floor? Answer: not much.
Does this mean we’re f*cked? Absolutely not.
At the beginning of a relationship, partners often experience spontaneous desire, that “I can’t get enough” craving. Over time, as relationships become secure, individual desire tends to settle into one of two patterns:
If you’re a reactive person but feel like you “should” be spontaneous, you’re putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. And guess what doesn’t make us feel sexy? Anxiety. Instead, flip the script: set the mood, create context (read adequate foreplay), and see if it makes a difference.
If you want to explore further, Emily Nagoski, the sex-educating legend, dives deep into this on her podcast episode: How Desire Actually Works.
3. Low libido or lack of communication?
Understanding how you experience desire is one thing; talking about it is another. Because let’s be honest: no one has ever said, “You know what’s super easy to talk about? Sex.” Even the most sex-positive among us can sometimes struggle to find the words. Where there’s sex, there’s often shame, and where there’s shame, communication gets tricky. Naming what we want and how we want it can feel impossible, especially if we’ve never practised. How do I tell you about my most vulnerable desires or subversive fantasies? What if you react badly when I say your teeth on my genitals isn’t exactly my thing?
I’ve seen couples who can effortlessly negotiate daycare pickups completely freeze when asked who should initiate intimacy. So, we don’t talk about it, and we put up with lousy sex for far too long. But here’s the question: if sex isn’t pleasurable, why would you want to have it? Is that low libido, or just a natural response to sex that feels like a scene from Rocky V, a lot of pounding, none of it fun?
If we can agree it’s silly to expect desire for unpleasurable sex, and just as silly to think we’ll magically know how to please someone without being told, then where do we go from here? Conversation. Not a lecture, not a performance review but a curious, compassionate conversation. Good sex doesn’t happen by accident; it’s co-created. When we can name what feels good, what doesn’t, and what we’d like to try, we hand our partners a map instead of leaving them to stumble in the dark. And when both people feel safe enough to share and to listen, that’s when pleasure can flourish. And if even that feels daunting, well, that’s exactly what sex and relationship therapists are here for.
4. Scheduling sex is not a passion killer
You know what kills passion? A lack of intimacy. As we’ve said, it’s unrealistic to expect sex to stay spontaneous in a long-term relationship. It’s not that it never happens, it’s just rare. So if spontaneity isn’t reliable, doesn’t it make sense to make time for intimacy? Sure, a shared calendar invite for sex might not sound sexy, but let’s reframe it: carving out space in your busy week for uninterrupted (or as uninterrupted as it can get if you’re a parent) quality time with your partner is one of the best things you can do for your love life.
Scheduling intimacy isn’t about creating an obligation; it’s about protecting space for connection. Just like you’d plan a date night, workout, or holiday, setting aside time ensures it actually happens. And the more you prioritise it, the easier it becomes to look forward to.
Planned intimacy doesn’t mean scripted intimacy. You’re not setting a timer or following a checklist; you’re simply saying, this time is ours. When intimacy gets squeezed out by work, kids, or endless Netflix, it’s not just sex that suffers; it's the bond. Protecting that time is one of the simplest ways to keep passion alive.
5. Let’s get flexible
Okay, so you’ve convinced your partner that scheduling sex is “actually very hot,” and you’re booked in for a Friday night sexscapade. But then Friday shows up. You’ve had a terrible day at work, the bus was late, and you're exhausted. Meanwhile, there’s laundry to do, dinner to make, and, oh right, sex to have. Suddenly, it all feels less like pleasure and more like pressure.
One of my biggest pet peeves as a sex therapist is when we treat sex like a rigid formula: Foreplay → penetration → orgasm → “Did you take out the trash?” → roll over, go to sleep. It’s boring, predictable, and frankly, not reflective of what sex can be. Sex isn’t a checklist; it’s a space for connection, creativity, and play.
Sex can be making out on the couch for ten minutes, sharing a steamy bath, talking dirty, mutual masturbation, cooking something delicious for each other, dry humping, a long, slow massage, pillow talk… the list is endless. And guess what? None of it has to end in penetrative sex or orgasm to count.
Sex lives at the intersection of eroticism, connection, and pleasure. So if you get home on Friday and you're exhausted, don’t treat sex like another task to tick off, but a welcome respite from a busy week. Tap into your inner hedonist. Ask yourself what you’re in the mood for. Ask your partner what they’re up for. Then go from there.
Sex should be like eating a good meal, delicious and satisfying. And maybe this Friday, you're not looking for a three course meal, maybe you'd be more than satisfied with a cheese plate.
Conclusion?
Long-term intimacy isn’t about chasing the honeymoon phase; it’s about connection, communication, and care. When we protect time for closeness and speak openly about what feels good, sex becomes something to look forward to, not another task. And if you’re stuck, a sex and relationship therapist can help you cut through the myths, ease the shame, and find your way back to intimacy that works for you and your partner. All this to say, it’s not you, it’s decades of bad sex ed and cultural nonsense conspiring against you.
