Let me tell you a story.
It’s about a 39-year-old man, married, two special needs kids. Still full of testosterone, still gets hard like a 20-year-old. His wife? Gorgeous. But sex? Dead.
And I don’t mean the “we’re tired tonight” kind of dead. I mean “the being quiet laying there expressionless” kind of dead.
I read his post, and my blood boiled. Not at him. At the silent epidemic we keep brushing under the rug: sexless marriages. Roommate situations where one person is screaming inside and the other has already checked out.
And here’s the part that hits me like a slap: “I have no choice,” he says. “I’m staying for the kids.”
God. That line. How many times have I heard that line?
Let me say something that might piss people off: your kids don’t need you to stay together. They need you to stay alive. Joyful. Whole. Sexually and spiritually fulfilled. Because kids absorb everything. The tension. The resentment. The silence.
He says they share duties, they support each other, they’re both burned out…and yet, there's no intimacy, no refuge in the bedroom. The one place that could be sacred... is now the saddest room in the house.
And what frustrates me most is this: women, you can be exhausted, you can be overwhelmed, but if you’ve completely abandoned your sensual body, if you’ve numbed yourself to the point where you’re a ghost in your own marriage, that’s not just about sex. That’s about presence. That’s about your life force being locked away in a vault.
And men, if you’re finding yourself dying inside while playing the noble martyr, ask yourself: are you really doing this for the kids - or because you're terrified of what life might look like if you chose yourself?
This isn’t just about sex. This is about intimacy starvation. It’s about connection, energy, the soul food of life. It’s about the fact that you can live in the same house with someone so you can pretend “you’re not lonely” but you never were as lonely as you are now.
You are dying of thirst, begging for a drop of affection.
Now listen to this reply, from a woman:
"I'm a SAHM, we have one kid with special needs. I'm entirely reliant on him financially, he hasn't wanted me sexually in years and refuses to address his issues. I'm at the stage where cheating or leaving are my options, as I have come to realise that this cannot continue as I am becoming depressed from it."
And here’s what struck me: "He refuses to address his issues..."
This is the mirror. The other side of the same heartbreak. Same house, different rooms. Same marriage, different stories.
And I ask: where does responsibility begin and end?
Isn’t that what we’re all doing in these situations - blaming the other for our own paralysis?
We are all responsible for our choices.
For how long we stay. For what we tolerate. For what we avoid. For what we abandon…especially when we abandon ourselves.
It’s not about whose fault it is. It’s about how long you’re willing to live like this. How long before you admit: this isn’t a dry spell, this is a drought. This isn’t a rough patch, this is the end of the road.
We need more truth. From both sides. Because if you're not choosing to stay with your eyes open, you're just sleepwalking through someone else's life.
So let’s keep going. Let’s talk about sexless marriages.
