Thirteen years ago we became parents, and it sucked the wind out of my husband’s sails. He became depressed, and lost all interest in sex. In the past decade I have gone from trying, single-handedly, to make things happen in the bedroom to taking notes on how infrequently we were intimate (was I imagining things?), to seeing a counsellor.

Therapy made me realise I was going to have to look after my sensuality on my own. I didn’t want my libido to flatline. A friend recommended a masseur who specialises in sensuality and reconnecting with the body. After four full-body massages, during which I did orgasm, I felt I could trust him, and I asked whether we could have sex. I lost my virginity to my husband and had never been with anyone else. The thought of going through life having only been with one man, who now didn’t want sex, was infuriating. Four years after making my first appointment, we meet once or twice a year and have sex in an hours-long, languid sensual encounter.

My life in sex: ‘I split my time between lovers so I have a reliable supply of male company’ Read more

My husband is no longer depressed, but still doesn’t appear interested in sex, and almost never expresses physical affection. We might have sex once or twice a year. I don’t fancy him, but I do still love him and wouldn’t break up our family for the world.

During one of our many conversations about the lack of sex, my husband said I should probably have an affair, but shouldn’t tell him about it. I wait to see how things develop and, in the meantime, look forward to appointments with my masseur.





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