Sexual Incompatibility in a Relationship: Is Polyamory the Answer? [Polyamory Conversation Cards #20]

Sexual incompatibility in a relationship can take many forms. Perhaps you have a much higher or lower libido than your partner. Maybe you’re kinky and they’re not, you’re asexual and they’re not, or you’re in a mixed-orientation relationship. Perhaps your kinks, fetishes, or sexual interests don’t overlap. One of you might be unable or unwilling to have sex for reasons relating to physical or mental health, trauma, aging, or disability, while the other still desires sex.

Sexual incompatibility can be a tricky thing to navigate, and an even harder thing to overcome. It’s also one of the reasons that formerly-monogamous couples might consider opening up a relationship to polyamory, swinging, or another form of consensual non-monogamy (CNM.)

But is polyamory actually a solution for sexual incompatibility? That’s a difficult question.

In case you missed it, this post is part of a series inspired by Odder Being’s Polyamory Conversation Cards. As often as I can, I’ll pull a card at random and write a piece of content based on it. There will likely be some essays, advice pieces, personal experiences, rants, and more! You can read the whole series at the dedicated tag. And if you want to support my work and get occasional bonus content, head on over to my Patreon.

This week’s card asks:

“What sexual activities would you prefer your partner(s) to explore with someone else than you?”

Sexual variety is definitely one of the reasons I’m polyamorous, though it’s far from the only (or main) reason. I enjoy getting to have sexual adventures with different people, and getting to connect with people naturally in the way that feels right for us, whether that connection involves a sexual component or not. I have a lot of sexual desires, kinks, and interests, and polyamory allows me to meet those needs and wants with different people.

Another reason I love being polyamorous, though? It also allows my partners to get certain needs met outside our relationship.

Let’s take it out of the sexual realm for a second to illustrate what I mean. I realise I might lose my Polyamorist Card for this admission but… I don’t play Dungeons & Dragons and I’m not that into board games. My nesting partner, though, loves those things. If we were monogamous I might feel bad that I couldn’t share those interests with him, or be tempted to force myself into taking part in activities I don’t enjoy. As it is, though, he can enjoy those things with his girlfriend and everyone is happy.

Sex is much the same way. Realistically, it’s very unlikely that desires, kinks, and needs will overlap 100% in any sexual relationship. Being polyamorous takes that pressure off, allowing each relationship to find its own sexual groove. When I know that my partners can also meet their sexual needs in other relationships, I don’t feel guilty or inadequate because of the things I can’t provide for them.

But does that mean polyamory is the answer to sexual incompatibility in a relationship that was formerly monogamous? Not necessarily.

Will Meeting Your Sexual Needs Elsewhere Actually Help?

After everything I’ve just said about polyamory being a wonderful way to explore different sexual needs with different people, I have to add on this enormous caveat: for me and for many people, sexual desire for a person isn’t transferrable.

What do I mean by that?

If I want to experience a particular act, I can probably meet that need with any partner with whom I have a sufficiently healthy and trusting relationship. But if what I’m craving is sex with Partner A, then sex with Partner B will probably be very nice but won’t actually address that desire.

Of course, no-one ever owes you sex. If what you actually desire is sex with your partner specifically, and they’re unwilling or unable to meet that desire, polyamory or non-monogamy is unlikely to help. Better options might be to explore together to find other ways to connect intimately, to adjust your expectations for the relationship and make peace with the situation (perhaps meeting your sexual needs through solo sex and fantasy), or to end the relationship.

It’s also okay if sexual intimacy is a core component of any romantic relationship for you. And if it is, a relationship that is sexually incompatible on a long-term basis is probably a relationship you won’t be able to be happy in, even if you also have other sexual relationships. (As fabulous sex blogger Kate Sloan wrote, “it’s okay to break up because of sex!“)

Would You Want to be Non-Monogamous if it Weren’t for This Incompatibility?

If the answer to this question is no, then you probably don’t actually want to be non-monogamous. Polyamory and non-monogamy are things you should pursue because you desire them for their own sake, because they align with your values, and because they represent how you want to live your life. They’re not a bandage for things that are missing in your existing relationship.

Opening up a relationship because of problems or deficiencies within it is almost always a bad idea. The experienced polyamorists amongst us have seen this approach, and seen it go wrong, so many times that we have a name for it: “relationship broken; add more people.”

Is the Problem Actually Sex, or Something Else?

Sexual incompatibility can certainly be a relationship issue in itself. However, it can also be a symptom of other problems. So before you leap into opening up, why not sit down with your partner and have a conversation about what your sexual incompatibility means and what it is telling you?

Sexual incompatibility that has been there since the beginning, or that is due to a fundamental aspect of identity such as asexuality, is unlikely to change. However, sexual incompatibility that has emerged over the course of your relationship can be a symptom of all kinds of things.

Physical health issues, mental health struggles such as depression, pain during sex, hormonal changes, stress, trauma, broken trust in the relationship, resentments over other conflicts or relationship problems, or one partner coming into a new understanding of their sexual orientation or gender identity are just some of the things that can be at the root of sexual incompatibility in a relationship.

Many of these issues can be worked through with mutual willingness, shared effort, plenty of love and kindness, and possibly an appropriately qualified therapist. Others likely spell the end of the road for your relationship, signalling that it’s time to peacefully part ways. Only you two know which is true for you.

So When Can Polyamory or Non-Monogamy Be a Solution to Sexual Incompatibility?

Sexual incompatibility, like so many aspects of relationships, is complex. If you’re sexually incompatible but want to stay together, there is unlikely to be one quick or easy fix. It will require lots of time and effort on both sides.

With all of that said, polyamory or non-monogamy can sometimes be one possible way to navigate maintaining a happy, healthy relationship when you’re sexually incompatible.

It could be a good option for you if…
  • You would both still like the idea of polyamory or non-monogamy as a relationship structure, relationship orientation, or lovestyle even if you had great sexual compatibility with each other.
  • You’ve talked about what opening up would mean for your relationship – the challenges, changes, pitfalls, and fears as well as the opportunities.
  • You’re able to have open and vulnerable conversations about your relationships, sex, and your feelings.
  • You’ve done your research – read the books, listened to the podcasts, gone to the meet-ups, made polyamorous friends, and learned the theory.
  • You’ve worked on decoupling/disentangling, learning to view yourselves as two autonomous individuals in a relationship rather than a single unit.
  • You’re willing to sit with uncomfortable feelings, communicate, and maintain personal boundaries rather than relying on rules and restrictions to keep you safe.
  • You are ready to treat incoming partners well, work to eliminate or minimise hierarchy, and actively dismantle couples’ privilege.

In general, opening up a relationship to polyamory or non-monogamy should feel like the next exciting step on an adventure you’re taking, both together and as individuals. It should not feel like an ultimatum, a proverbial gun to the head, or the only way to bring a dying relationship back from the brink.

And sure, sometimes sexual incompatibility can be the catalyst for transitioning from monogamy to non-monogamy. But it’s rarely the only catalyst, and it’s certainly not a quick fix or an easy solution.

If you find my work helpful, I’d love it if you shared it on Bluesky. You can also buy me a coffee to say thanks!

[Guest Post] Anorgasmia and The Pursuit of Pleasure by Alessandra Fraissinet

It’s been quite a while since we had a guest post, hasn’t it? I’m happy to be welcoming Alessandra Fraissinet (they/she), a queer, sex-positive relationship, sex and health educator (RSH), talking about anorgasmia, the orgasm gap, and orgasm difficulties. This has come at a pretty perfect time, especially given that I wrote recently about my own struggles with orgasm and vow to never “fake it” again.

The Pursuit of Pleasure by Alessandra Fraissinet

TW: mention of depression and sexual violence

Part of my job as a sex educator is to encourage people of all genders and sexualities to follow their pleasure. To have sex because it feels good, to release expectations, to be playful, and to move away from the idea of sex as a performance. Under heteronormativity, in particular, sex can be viewed as something you do with a particular aim and, specifically, something that must lead to orgasm.

Now, there are a few things to know about orgasms:

First, orgasms are an involuntary response to a mechanical stimulus, pretty much like a sneeze. That means you or your partner(s) can facilitate the reaction by creating a set of ideal circumstances (trust, relaxation, appropriate stimulation), but that technically no one can make you orgasm except for your own body.

And just as there are a few things you can do to facilitate orgasm, some things can also make it hard to reach. Relaxation, adequate stimulation, good pelvic floor health, safety and trust all contribute to creating an ideal environment for orgasms. On the other hand, physical and psychological factors like depression, anxiety, certain medications, stress, and sexual trauma can prevent you from having orgasms either occasionally or all the time.

People with vulvas, especially cis women who have sex with cishet men, are known to have it harder: this is a well-documented phenomenon known as the orgasm gap. When discussing the orgasm gap, people most often place emphasis on poor communication between partners, male selfishness, and a lack of appropriate pleasure education.

Regardless of sex, gender or sexual orientation, orgasms can be difficult to achieve. This can result in significant pressure during partnered sex especially. Unlearning the idea of sex as a performance, and embracing it as an experience, requires us to release our expectations of a specific outcome and allow pleasure to take whatever form comes naturally in a given moment. This is challenging, especially if – like me – you live with anorgasmia: the extreme difficulty or inability to orgasm.

Anorgasmia can be primary (when you have never had an orgasm) or secondary (when you used to be able to orgasm). It can depend on a variety of different factors: excessive worrying around sexual “performance”, depression and other mood disorders, chronic pain, sexual trauma, hormonal changes, gynaecological surgery, and other health conditions can all cause anorgasmia.

Being a Sex Educator with Anorgasmia

So here I am, embodying the contradiction of being a sex educator who is not only unable to orgasm, but is also consistently failing to address what is “wrong” with their body. Here I am telling people they need to stop obsessing over orgasms and start enjoying sex for pleasure and connection… when I can rarely practice what I preach.

And don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t enjoy sex for the sake of pleasure and connection because I do. Because I don’t cum, pleasure and connection pretty much constitute the whole deal to me. But to be completely honest, most of the time, I am immensely frustrated with my body. I feel betrayed. And I feel like my body has failed me.

I can’t seem to recall my first orgasms – or even whether I have ever actually experienced one. My first experiences with sex were turbulent, to put it mildly. But even now, when I am having super hot sex, when I am really turned on, and when I am having sex with someone who I trust and who cares about me, I cannot ever bring myself to climax. No matter the amount of adequate stimulation I am receiving. No matter how many sex toys I’m aiding myself with.

I always come super close to it, and then… I wish I could say it’s like a deer in headlights that simply stops and goes away, never to be seen again. But the reality is that the pleasure becomes unbearable at this point, and I ask my partner to stop (or I stop if I am masturbating).

Reactions are mixed. Some people (you guessed it, mostly cis men) don’t say a word, and I am not even sure they notice. Some seem puzzled and thrown off or ask me questions. I then explain what happens to my body. While there is a general understanding, most people seem very surprised by it.

Talking About It

Telling partners about my anorgasmia can be even more frustrating than having the condition itself. Attempting to articulate what happens to my body while I’m experiencing intense pleasure without ever being able to follow through puts me right in front of the issue I’ve consistently been trying to avoid (which is another perfect example of “do as I say, not as I do”). And the reason why I avoid the issue is that actively trying to overcome it seems way too overwhelming.

There’s something terrifying about realising that you are indeed in charge of your own pleasure. Your partners can aid and facilitate it but cannot create it from scratch and give it to you. If you want to experience it, you must show up for yourself. That can mean a few different things: communicating with your partner openly and honestly and asking for what you want, making time and being intentional about solo sex, or going to therapy and facing uncomfortable truths. Sometimes all three, and more, together.

For years, I’ve refused to address my anorgasmia in the name of pleasure. Because sex feels good no matter what. Because I can still feel close to my partner. And because I firmly reject all sorts of expectations around sex. Wanting more doesn’t make me a hypocrite, though. If you take away one thing from this post, let it be this: you can embrace orgasm-less pleasure while being curious and trying to overcome your limitations. I deserve powerful, earth-shattering orgasms, and so do you.

“You deserve pleasure” has become a popular catchphrase in sex-positive communities, and rightfully so. But to internalise this message is difficult. And if you’ve been struggling with depression, low self-esteem or sexual trauma, taking charge of your own pleasure can feel overwhelming and out of
reach. There’s no quick fix and no magic wand, but there is important work to do.

If you would like to support me in bringing more amazing guest writers to the site, the best way to do that is by becoming a supporter on Patreon. You can also chip in by buying me a virtual coffee!

On Faking Orgasms

[TW: this post makes brief reference to sexual intimate partner abuse]

Sometimes it’s hard for me to cum.

And sometimes I can get there, but it takes a long time. Or what feels like a long time to me, though I think I’m actually fairly average. According to the International Society for Sexual Medicine, one study showed that the average person with a vulva (they said “woman” but let’s use inclusive language here) takes around 14 minutes to climax during partnered sex. It is a little unclear whether the researchers were using “partnered sex” synonymously with “intercourse“. However, I’m assuming they are referring to any kind of partnered sexual activity since anything from 50% to 80% (depending on which study you believe) of people with vulvas don’t orgasm solely from penetration at all.

After the first time we slept together, my now-girlfriend and I discussed the orgasm difficulty thing because I was feeling a little self-conscious over how long it sometimes takes me to get off. During that conversation, she asked me to please not feel any pressure to fake it. And I hadn’t realised how much I needed to hear that explicitly until she said it.

Why Fake Orgasms?

I’ve definitely faked orgasms in the past, and for a few different reasons. At the absolute worst, when I was in an abusive relationship, faking it was sometimes the best way to get things I didn’t like and didn’t feel comfortable with to be over. In those relationships, even if the sex itself was consensual, it wasn’t necessarily safe to ask for what actually felt good and would help me to get off. Abusive men don’t take well to any threats to their egos.

On a less sinister note, I’ve had a lot of consensual-but-bad sex in my life. Whether it was partners who couldn’t be bothered to learn how to please me, or just my own insecurities and unwillingness to speak up, lots of factors played into this. Half way through I might realise that I wasn’t going to get there no matter how hard we tried. At those times, faking it sometimes felt easier than saying “can we stop?”

I’ve also faked orgasms in group sex situations before. Those spaces are typically less about the actual orgasm for me. I often won’t cum in a group situation, though there are of course exceptions to this generalisation. They’re more about the overall sensuality, shared sexual energy, and just the feeling of being in that erotic space. Even so, it can feel like the goal in those situations is “everyone has an orgasm” and like I’m letting the group down if I don’t. In those circumstances, it has sometimes felt easier to fake it than to draw attention to it.

Why I Decided to Stop

Quite a few years ago now, I swore off faking orgasms. So what changed? A few things.

First, I realised that I deserve pleasure as much as my partners. I was primarily sleeping with men and masc-of-centre people at the time, and the orgasm gap is a real phenomenon to which I have no desire to contribute with my sex life.

Ironically, discovering that I have an orgasm denial/orgasm control kink helped, too. This means that if I’m having fun but not getting off, I can eroticise the build-up and the unreleased sexual tension in and of itself. Enjoying the process freed me up to enjoy sex more fully without needing to chase a destination that can be highly variable in its reachability. (And yes, I also appreciate the irony that someone growling “don’t you dare fucking cum” in my ear will often get me close faster than almost anything else.)

I also realised that faking it just begets more frustration and unsatisfying sex. If a partner believes that what they’re doing is making me cum, they will (reasonably) continue doing those things when we have sex again in the future. By faking orgasms, I was literally teaching partners to continue touching me in ways that didn’t work for me. What’s the point of that?

I recently saw this article about why faking orgasms “may not be as bad for your relationship as we thought,” and… it made me kinda ragey. This part, in particular:

If your partner feels insecure about their sexual ability and you don’t have an orgasm during sex, sometimes telling them you did is an easy out from having to console them. As much as you love your partner, having to reassure them their sex skills are top-notch can be taxing. That’s why, in these situations, it’s fine to spare their feelings to avoid having to comfort them for hours on end.

– Amanda Chatel

What? WHAT!? No! I’m sorry but if someone’s ego is so fragile that they’re going to make my body’s quirks about them, or that they’d rather I lie to them rather than learn about what actually gets me off (and accept that sometimes it might not happen through no fault of theirs or mine), we shouldn’t be having sex.

Another change was discovering the wonderful world of sex toys. Over a decade ago, I went through a period where I was unable to orgasm due to starting new antidepressants. It was a mains-powered “back massager” vibrator that helped me eventually power through that block. I didn’t really start exploring the full joys of the sex toy world, though, until I launched this blog. (And then it all got slightly out of hand… *glances around at vibrators spilling out of drawers, baskets, boxes, and door-hanging shoe holders in my office.*)

Discovering toys gave me new options and avenues for pleasure and orgasm. New ways to experience intense sensations when my body needs more powerful stimulation to break through an orgasm block. New ways to cum and new possibilities to reach for if hands or mouths or cocks aren’t quite getting me over the edge.

The absolute number one change, though? The single biggest thing that turned all of this around? Safe relationships.

When you’re with safe partners, faking orgasms becomes unnecessary. With both Mr C&K and my girlfriend, I feel able to say either “please could we do this different thing that might help me get there?” or “I don’t think it’s going to happen tonight but I’m still having tonnes of fun” and I know that that will be heard and accepted with love. Feeling safe and loved totally removes the need or desire to fake anything with them, including my orgasms.

So sometimes I still struggle to cum. That might always be true. And sometimes I might worry that I’m taking too long. That my partner(s) will feel bad if I don’t get off. That they’ll get bored with the process. In those situations, faking orgasms does still occasionally seem like a tempting solution. But I promised myself and my partners that I’ll never do that again, and I intend to stick to it.

I deserve more than fake pleasure and so do my partners. Because if we can’t be authentic with each other, what’s the point?

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[Guest Post] How CBD Lube Changed My Sex Life When My Body Forgot How to Orgasm by Hattie Gladwell

Today’s guest post comes from Hattie Gladwell (she/her,) a freelance journalist whose work I have been reading and enjoying for a while. This is her first piece for C&K.

I loved this story because struggles with orgasm are so, so common, especially for cis women and other people with vulvas. The limited cultural narratives around sex can make us feel that we should all be having the most amazing sex, all the time and without ever talking about it.

Those same narratives push the idea that if we’re with the right partner, sex and orgasm will be easy and effortless, and that any use of additional tools (such as toys or lube) indicate failure. But as we can see from Hattie’s story, those things can be game changers in the best possible way.

Enjoy!

Amy x

How CBD Lube Changed My Sex Life When My Body Forgot How to Orgasm

I was in a sexless relationship for almost six years. It was difficult not just physically, but mentally, too. I wanted an intimate relationship, but sadly he wasn’t interested. Of course, I thought it was me. That something was wrong with me. I changed how I looked constantly to see if maybe he’d start loving me again, but the relationship had been dead for years. 

When we first got together, I was able to orgasm easily and quickly. Multiple times. Having an orgasm had never been a concern to me. I’d always had a good sex life before the relationship, and during the first year. But everything changed, and I don’t know why. 

When we finally broke up and I walked away from the stale relationship, I met somebody new quickly. My family and friends warned me that it was too early, that I needed to heal. But I had already done my healing over the last six months of the relationship—because I knew it was coming to an end. 

It was incredible to have sex with someone new. I mean, it was incredible just to have sex again. But, I couldn’t orgasm. It made me feel bad because I didn’t want my new partner to think it was him. My body just forgot what an orgasm felt like, and I couldn’t do it anymore. 

When I tried to get there, it was even more impossible, because I was putting myself under too much pressure. It wasn’t until I decided to “re-discover myself” alone, learning what I liked and didn’t like, and what made me tick, that finally, I came to climax again. 

I decided to show my partner what I liked, and it worked—but it still took me up to an hour to get there, and sometimes I couldn’t at all. It was frustrating and I felt resentment towards my ex because I felt like I had no control over my body.

I could only come during mutual masturbation. Never during sex. Which is annoying, because I want to reach orgasm when my partner does. It feels more intimate. It makes me feel closer. 

That’s where the CBD lube comes in. 

There are lots of CBD lubes out there, even though not that many people know about them. Of course, most people have heard about CBD and the common belief that it helps with chronic pain. But it can also help with sensitivity of the vulva, as it is absorbed through the tissues.

I was sceptical, but decided to try Dani Pepper’s “O” orgasm enhancer.

It comes in a bottle that looks just like regular, non-CBD lube, and is transparent. It’s made using organic and natural ingredients, and is water-based, meaning it’s okay to use with latex. 

I sat down with my partner and talked about using the lube, and he agreed. He was just as adamant about getting my orgasms back on track as I was. 

That night, we had sex. But before we did, we did what we usually do, and he tried to get me off. I decided to do it during mutual masturbation because I wanted my body to get used to the CBD lube in a way that I knew might just make me come. 

He put the lube on me, and within 15 minutes I started to feel more relaxed. I wasn’t worried about climaxing. I decided that it didn’t matter if I didn’t orgasm this time—I could always try again. 

But I did come. Quickly. Intensely. The most extraordinary orgasm I have ever had. 

It lasted for at least 10 seconds, and afterwards, my legs were shaking and I couldn’t speak through breathlessness. 

What I also loved is how calm I felt afterwards. I continued to feel this really relaxing sensation. Sex afterwards was amazing because, even though I can’t come through penetration still, it made us both feel accomplished. Knowing I’d “got there” meant there were no frustrated vibes after having sex—or masturbating for an hour. 

I always use the lube now; every time we have sex. It’s my go-to, and I of course have more than one bottle at a time so that I can keep myself stocked up. 

CBD lube, and specifically Dani Pepper’s orgasm enhancer, has been a game-changer for me. Not just because of the incredibly intense orgasms, but because it has brought me closer to my partner sexually. I feel like our sex life is way more intimate now, and I never feel like I’m missing out. And I won’t ever again.

About the Author

Hattie Gladwell is a journalist and editor from Sussex. She is passionate about raising awareness of mental health issues, and mainly writes about sex, relationships, parenting and mental illness.

Product recommendation is the writer’s own and is not an affiliate link.

When a Man Can’t Reach Climax

I replied to this question from a lovely reader privately, but he kindly gave me permission to reproduce his question for the column as I suspect there are lots of people who could benefit from this advice. He asks:

Any ideas for a cis guy who can’t reach climax? I experience a loss of sensation due to my ongoing illness and the medication I have to take. Sometimes using a high-powered vibrator like my wife’s Doxy helps, but only occasionally. I still enjoy sex and try not to worry too much about orgasm, but you can understand this is very frustrating. Sometimes I just don’t want to bother. There’s so much information out there about premature ejaculation, but not much about loss of sensation or inability to climax for men.

This is such a great question, and one that is so rarely talked about. As you correctly identified, there’s tonnes of information for cis guys who orgasm too quickly, but very little for those who struggle to get there in the timeframe they’d like… or at all.

First, I’m going to give you the obvious but necessary advice. Try, if possible, to relax and not stress about it. For a lot of people, making climax the express goal of sex or masturbation stresses them out so much that it makes it even MORE difficult to get there. And remember, you can still have loads of sexy fun without orgasm and even without a hard penis.

Secondly, if you haven’t already, please talk to your doctor. I don’t know what medication you’re on, but anorgasmia and difficulty orgasming is a hugely common and problematic side effect of many medications, including common antidepressants such as SSRIs. (Ask me how I know!) Sadly, many medical professionals don’t take sexual side effects seriously. But sex is an important part of life for many people, doctors need to take these side effects seriously. There may not be another medical solution, depending on the specifics and what your condition is. But it’s an avenue worth exploring if you haven’t already.

Third, I’m going to make a couple of toy suggestions for you. You mentioned using the Doxy wand can sometimes bring you to orgasm. How are you using it? If you’re just pressing it against your cock, that’s awesome for a lot of men but you might also wish to try using an attachment. My partner absolutely loves the Hummer. The advantage of an attachment like this is that it transmits the vibrations all over the penis, rather than concentrating them in the one spot where the toy is sitting.

I also highly recommend you check out the Pulse by Hot Octopuss. Unlike the Doxy, this “guybrator” is actually not a vibrator at all. It uses PulsePlate technology, an oscillating mechanism based on proven medical research. It’s the same medical technology that is used to help men with spinal cord injuries to ejaculate. It can be used on either a flaccid or erect penis. Tests have shown that it can induce climax even while the penis is flaccid! Of course, no toy is perfect for everyone, but given that this one was based on devices designed for those with little or no sensation, I think there’s a very real possibility it will be a great option for you.

This sounds like a really frustrating situation for you. I really hope some of this advice is helpful. I also really hope that seeking further medical advice specifically around the sexual side effects of your medication gives you some answers.

Today’s advice column is kindly supported by Hot Octopuss. Using any of the affiliate links in this post to purchase toys sends a small commission my way and helps support my writing and sex education work.  

Keeping Your Sexy Going When Times Are Hard

We all go through hard times in our lives. It’s part of being human. Today’s prompt from Kayla Lords’ 30 Days of D/s, which I’m working from for #KinkMonth, is all about maintaining kinky fuckery in a relationship when times are tough. She asks:

Does it surprise you that you might not maintain the same level of D/s during the stressful times? Do you think you know how you’ll handle your relationship when it does?

Now, I’m a person for whom sex is very important. I have (arguably, depending upon who you ask) an above-average drive and sex is a really important part of intimate relationships for me. This doesn’t change when times get stressful. It just means I have to be a bit more creative to make sure that I continue to prioritise sex in my life.

Here’s some things that have worked for me. Maybe they’ll help you, too, next time “life” gets in the way.

Make dates with your partner

If you have a partner or partners, schedule dates and stick to them. During this time, make a rule that you won’t answer your phones, check email or discuss the current stressful topic. Instead, whatever you enjoy doing together, do that: make some tasty food, order in, watch a film, take a walk, share a hot bath. Relax and practice being present with and grateful for each other. This is less about “scheduling time for sex” and more about carving out time for your relationship and making sure you stay connected to each other. Do this, and the sex should follow.

Make dates with yourself

Whether you have a partner or not, making time for yourself is important. Put “Me Time” in your Google calendar if you have to! A minimum of one four-hour block a week is ideal if you can do it. During this time, you should only do things that feel good to you: read a good book, watch your favourite TV show, surf the internet guilt-free, go for a run, cuddle your pet, write in your journal. Whatever feels good. During this time, give yourself permission to do things like watch porn, read erotica, fantasise and masturbate if you want to. Again, this isn’t about “scheduling time to jerk off” – it’s about freeing up time and space to focus on yourself and give yourself permission to feel good.

Explore erotic energy without penetration, or orgasm, necessarily being the goal

When was the last time you and your partner just had a heavy make-out session that didn’t necessarily lead to any kind of genital contact? What about the last time you shared a sexy shower, gave each other massages, or even just casually hung out naked because you could? Erotic, sexual and intimate energy can take many forms and we’re so accustomed, once we get into sexual relationships, to rushing straight into genital-focused sex with orgasm as the assumed end goal. When times are hard, it can be the ideal time to explore other types of touch, connection and intimacy. If your brain won’t switch off long enough to let you reach climax, or your cock isn’t getting hard when you want it to, this can be a beautiful way to maintain a sexual connection with your partner and yourself.

Biology comes first

This is so basic, but don’t underestimate the power of trying to sleep 8 hours per night, drink plenty of water, eat well, and get plenty of exercise and fresh air. These simple rituals of taking care of yourself can completely transform how you feel. None of us can have sizzling sex when we’re exhausted or malnourished.

Get a change of location for stressful subjects

I have been known to do it at times, but generally I really prefer not having conversations about difficult topics or current stresses in mine and Mr CK’s bedroom. This is because our room, for me, is a place for cuddles, restful sleep, and… sex. I understand being able to do this is a privilege and not everyone has that ability. For me, though, a change of location – ideally to a pub, coffee shop or even just taking a walk – for talking things through can help to keep the stress out of our sexy space. Even having hard conversations in the living room instead of the bedroom can be useful.

Give yourself permission to NOT want sex

This might sound counter-intuitive, but it’s actually really, really important. Nothing will kill your libido faster than beating yourself up for the times when you DON’T want to have sex! It’s okay to not want to have sex sometimes, whether that’s due to tiredness or work stress or depression or the fact that you’d really rather just watch Netflix. Beating yourself up makes the very idea of sex into a stressful and painful topic. Giving yourself permission to not want sex sometimes also gives you permission for the times you do want it.

I hope some of these ideas will be useful to you the next time you’re having a hard time but would like to keep getting your sexy on. You’ve got this. I believe in you.

Kinky item of the day: Gags! I adore gags. What about this large ball gag, which is silicone – meaning it’s non-porous and will stay hygienic for longer?

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