Loss of Libido: Where Has The Pleasure Gone?

Loss of Libido: Where Has The Pleasure Gone?

Loss of Libido: Where Has The Pleasure Gone?
Loss of Libido: Where Has The Pleasure Gone?

It used to be the most important thing in the world. Today even men hardly think about sex anymore. Loss of libido is a topic that is often hushed up. Our author breaks his silence and talks about the disappearance of lust for sex.

A man speaks openly about loss of libido
Can you just forget about sex? Me, yes. I know that it exists. Sometimes I hear moans in my backyard and fifteen minutes afterwards orgasms that sound very nice, and this glorious summer I only had to sit in a restaurant for half an hour in the evening to realize the importance of other couples to keep going after dinner . All the welcoming looks. All the ardent conversations. All the stealthy touches.

Not my event. And every time it's not my event again, I would have good excuses, none of which have to do with a headache. For example, that I don't have the time right now. Or that on this glorious summer I preferred cold showers to hot touch. Or that I'm dead tired about five out of seven evenings and don't want to exhaust myself on the other two. There's probably something wrong with me. It can't be normal for a grown man in a happy relationship and without worries to hardly ever think about sex. It is normal for men to think about sex all the time. I was once the guy who enjoyed the visible panty lines of women walking in front of him on the street, because they remind you that women wear panties and you could help them get rid of them if you got into conversation with women . Now I almost never think about sex anymore. Not sex with my wife, not sex with other women, not sex other than those I know. I have already checked Internet porn to see if it might be because I needed other stimuli. But no matter what I watched, threesomes, massages in Japanese onsens, rioting in freeway parking lots, my body wasn't interested. As if the lust had escaped him without saying goodbye first. How did that come about? I do not have a clue either. It just so happened. Somehow my life has changed so much that there is hardly any room for sex in it. I wanted to be a good father to the daughter. I wanted to be a good man to the woman (that sounds a little strange in this context). I wanted to write good lyrics. I didn't want to stop reading good books and looking at all of Netflix's works. And already I hardly thought about sex. Of course, I would have enough time for it. Someone who can pull in all the seasons of "West Wing" can accommodate sexual intercourse.

The lust is gone without saying goodbye first
I used to be different. Like all libidinally intact men, I kept thinking about birding, now and then even while I was doing it. Today I'm a little embarrassed that I took sex so seriously that I went to bed with people with whom I wouldn't have lasted twenty minutes of conversation - I just didn't want to miss an opportunity. On the other hand, I also loved Pink Floyd in my previous life. Or milk coffee. Today I would get the crisis if someone poured milk into my coffee. Interestingly, no one thinks this is a problem. It is perfectly normal for interests, priorities and passions to change in a lifetime. Only when you stop chasing after sex should it be an indication that you have been damaged and that therapy is needed.

What does the woman actually say? The therapist, whom I don't have, would ask at this point at the latest. I could answer him with relief: It is so similar to her. Too much to do, too little time, the child, the work, she's in the rush hour of her life right now (while I'm a little older). So let's not talk much about it. Just as we don't talk much about the fact that we rarely (actually not at all) go to rock concerts or bookstores, which we always did at the beginning of our relationship. Rock concerts would now cost us a lot because of the babysitter, and the DHL driver would at least deposit the books in the neighborhood. Sometimes we tell ourselves we should again. If it works, it's beautiful, familiar and very sexy every time. But what is urgent, demanding, somehow greedy is missing - this sex in which you pounce on each other, tossing your head back and forth and digging into the pillow or back. We're both more of the elaborate guy, with skirmishes and conversation and breakfast the morning after. Or we were when the priorities and obligations in our lives were still different. Our frequency would probably increase significantly immediately if we got used to film sex.

The libido, it will come back. Sometime.
After all, I'm not alone with my sexual aversion. The bestselling author Wilhelm Schmid recently wrote a book about downstairs burnout, which he calls sexout. Unfortunately, it only contains things that are out of the question for me. For example, that you should try to increase the erotic tension by acting out your opposites. Or that you could try other sex, maybe with other people. Oh yes, I thought while reading, at my age I've known for a long time that role-play and whatever else there is will never turn me on. And the woman I rarely sleep with is, firstly, so much my opposite that I often wonder how she can stand me at all, and secondly, when I come to Charlotte Gainsbourg hotter than any other woman I could get to know I didn't answer. In any case, nothing is less exciting for me than the idea of ​​an affair to revive lust. These follies that you would have to take on: telling childhood stories, getting to know sensitivities, exchanging favorite tastes. I am so glad that I am through all of this.

As far as my libido is concerned, I'm very relaxed. She'll come back just like that, sometime in winter maybe. The daughter will sleep with her friend, all work will be done. We're going to look at each other and smile at each other and then we will start again, and in the apartment across the back yard another couple will be grinning and maybe having ideas. Or maybe not. One should not check off duties in life, but live out one's life as it comes. Then it will be fine.