I (50M) have been married to my wife (45F) for 20 years, and we’ve been together for 24 years now. We met at my old workplace after she graduated from university and joined the marketing and communications department. We have two kids, a 15 year old daughter and a 12 year old son.
I work a regular Monday-to-Friday, 9-to-5 job with about an hour commute each way. My wife has worked in real estate for the last 16 years, usually around 20–25 hours a week, mostly from home except for closings. Because of her flexible schedule, she handled more of the weekday responsibilities with the kids.
Before we became parents, our relationship was great in every way, including our s*x life. We were intimate three or four times a week. Nothing wild, just a healthy connection. I knew all of her sweet spots, understood what helped her relax, what she enjoyed, and what made her feel desired. We respected each other’s boundaries, and I always tried to make sure she felt cared for, not just physically but emotionally as well.
Everything changed after our daughter was born.
I expected things to slow down for a while, but after several months, they never really recovered. Three or four times a week became once a week. When I gently asked if something was wrong, she said she was exhausted. I understood and didn’t push.
After our son was born, things declined even more. Once a week became twice a month. Then once a month. Eventually it became normal for my attempts to initiate to be turned down. Many nights she would go to bed early before I finished the bedtime routine with the kids. By the time I came upstairs, she was already asleep—or at least appeared to be.
Whenever I tried bringing it up, the answer was always the same.
She was tired.
She felt overwhelmed.
I believed her.
I even suggested hiring a cleaning service or someone to help around the house so she’d have less on her plate. She refused every time.
Eventually, I stopped asking.
Watching porn or taking care of myself never replaced what I actually missed. Physical touch has always been my love language. For me, intimacy was never just about the physical release—it was about feeling close to my wife.
So I stopped initiating completely.
If anything happened, it would have to come from her.
Over the following years, intimacy became less and less frequent.
Once every two months.
Then once every three months.
Eventually only once or twice a year.
For roughly the last decade, that’s been our normal. If we were intimate, she initiated. I simply accepted that my role was to wait and never expect anything.
Instead of focusing on what I was missing, I poured my energy elsewhere.
I became more involved in community organizations, volunteered with local charities, and spent more time serving through my church. I’m naturally introverted, but those activities gave me a sense of purpose that filled a lot of the emotional space intimacy once occupied.
I love my wife.
I’ve never wanted a divorce.
I’ve never cheated.
I’ve always found her attractive, even after pregnancies and all the normal changes life brings. And for reasons I won’t get into, I’m as close to certain as anyone could be that she has never had an affair either.
I honestly think she simply lost her desire.
About a year and a half ago, something unexpected happened.
She initiated one night, and I struggled to get an erection. Even when I finally did, it didn’t last long, and after finishing I immediately lost it.
Naturally, I assumed it was age catching up with me.
I saw my primary doctor, who referred me to a men’s health specialist. They ran every test imaginable—testosterone, hormones, circulation, everything.
The results?
Perfectly normal.
The specialist eventually told me he believed the issue wasn’t physical at all. He suspected it was psychological and recommended therapy.
I never went.
I didn’t really see the point.
Over the past 18 months, something inside me has changed.
It’s like my interest in s*x slowly disappeared.
Not just with my wife.
With everyone.
If I notice an attractive woman today, my reaction is no different than appreciating a beautiful painting or a nice landscape. I recognize she’s attractive, and then I move on without another thought.
Last Friday, for the first time this year, my wife tried initiating again.
I politely told her I wasn’t interested.
Not because I was angry.
Not because I wanted to punish her.
I genuinely had no desire.
She looked confused and asked what was wrong.
I repeated that I simply wasn’t interested.
Half joking, she asked if I was having an affair.
I told her absolutely not.
Then she reached into my boxers and tried touching me anyway, expecting some kind of reaction.
There wasn’t one.
I gently moved her hand away and said I didn’t want to have s*x.
That’s when the joking stopped.
She started demanding an explanation, insisting this wasn’t normal.
Finally, after years of keeping my feelings to myself, I told her the truth.
I said that after so many years of almost no intimacy, something inside me had shut down. Over time, I’d redirected my emotional needs into my children, my volunteer work, my church, and other meaningful parts of my life.
Eventually, s*x simply stopped mattering.
I told her it almost felt like I’d become asexual.
Not because I was born that way, but because years without intimacy had conditioned me to stop wanting it altogether.
At this point, the thought of having s*x creates about as much excitement as someone asking whether I’d like to buy a dog.
It’s just… nothing.
I honestly can’t remember the last spontaneous erection I had.
I doubt I would’ve had one even if I’d let her continue touching me.
She called me an asshole.
She became convinced I must be cheating because, in her mind, that was the only explanation.
For context, I do volunteer work with plenty of women of different ages, but every relationship is entirely platonic. Some are colleagues, some are friends, and in a few cases I’m more of a mentor.
Nothing inappropriate has ever happened.
She slept in the guest room that night, and since then we’ve barely spoken.
So now I’m wondering…
Was I wrong for being honest?
Or would it have been kinder to blame it on age-related ED and spare her feelings instead?