Book Title

Men’s Health magazine once called the bed the single greatest piece of exercise equipment ever invented.¹ Beats Stairmaster or Zumba surely. The pulse rate of an aroused person rises from about 70 to 150 beats per minute, similar to that of an athlete at maximum effort. Frequent sexual intercourse is associated with a lower risk of fatal coronary heart disease.² Australian researchers say that by ejaculating more than five times a week, men in their 20s can reduce their risk of prostate cancer by a third.³ Frequent ejaculations—21 or more a month—have also been linked to lower prostate cancer risk in older men.⁴ Indeed, sex, like carrots, is good for us. Regular sex has been claimed to have a host of physical and psychological benefits, from combating depression and boosting wellbeing and self-esteem, to reducing stress, thanks to the release of feel-good, pain-relieving endorphins in the brain. Sex and orgasms increase levels of the hormone oxytocin, which helps us bond and build trust, thereby improving intimacy. Oxytocin released during orgasm also promotes calmness and sleep, and can even help wounds heal faster.⁵

Having regular sex has been linked to higher levels of the antibody immunoglobulin A, which may boost the immune system and protect us from colds.⁶ Sex also strengthens pelvic-floor muscles, lowering our risk of incontinence later in life, and boosts the production of testosterone, which leads to stronger bones and muscles.

If that doesn’t sell you, the beauty effects might. Sweating during sex cleanses the pores, resulting in healthier skin. Screw L’Oréal. Depending how vigorous it is, sex can burn a lot of calories and tone a woman’s pelvis, thighs, buttocks, arms and neck.

Sex also has the extraordinary ability to connect two people, to make them feel fused. To tackle high divorce rates, even the church advocates sex. For example, a Florida church challenged its married members to have sex every day for a month.⁷

Is sex the new antidepressant? Numerous studies have shown that couples who are satisfied with their relationship are generally more satisfied with their sexual life and sexual functioning. Canadian sex researcher Lori Brotto says, ‘Ultimately we all just want to love and be loved. If people are sexually happier, they’ll be happier in general.’ She adds that sex is a mood enhancer, and although many women dread it at times, they usually feel better for it afterwards. ‘So really there is an antidepressant-like quality in something that is nonmedical, very natural.’

For many women, libido is something we used to have. In the beginning of our relationship . . . when we were younger . . . when we weighed less . . . Then we may have felt that fire, the urgency to touch, bond, spread our legs and be filled. Libido was like a magic wand that could turn sex into something euphoric. Sexual thoughts would come, unannounced, jagged and warm. We dressed to be seductive, and used our bodies to seduce.

But for many women, libido ‘just went away’. It might have been a gradual decline where sex slowly lost prominence in the scale of life priorities. It might have happened suddenly, after the birth of our first child. Either way, sexual vitality and interest became increasingly hard to summon, increasingly distant. And we were left feeling ‘sexless’.

Libido, however, naturally fluctuates through out our lifetime, and varies in strength from woman to woman. Even though some women’s interest in sex is never very robust, the exception often occurs during limerence, the enchanted period of early love when sex is elevated to the realms of the divine. Limerence—the first months or years of a romance—this is when sexual desire peaks, not only because we are getting to know the most darling, amazing, delicious person on earth, but also because of the chemicals—dopamine, noradrenaline and testosterone—that surge through our bodies.

But what happens when there are children, and bills to pay, when we feel less physically desirable, when domesticity and boredom set in and those fabulous love chemicals are no longer zipping about? Some are left with companionate love that only occasionally hits the heights of sexual pleasure. But others are better able to tenure passion.

The lessening of our libido is in all likelihood a natural progression. Infatuation leads to pairing, which leads to less intensity as we rechannel sexual energy into other projects. But, there is a problem. We are living in a time when sex is the new gold and relationships that fall short are deemed not only inferior but sexually ‘dysfunctional’.

Low libido certainly doesn’t connote a sexual disorder. In fact, in the Victorian era, low libido was considered a virtue in women. But try telling that to hubby next time he complains. Of all the female sexual ‘ailments’, low libido is by far the most common. For many women, thinking about sex, desiring sex, initiating sex, languishing in sex is simply not part of regular life. Depending on the medical literature you read, the prevalence of low libido ranges from 25 to 43 per cent among American women.⁸ The libido of ordinary women does not match the way it is depicted in film, television, music, women’s literature and magazines, advertising campaigns and pornography. But, because we are so exposed to this media ideal, our partners and eventually even we ourselves can start to believe that this is what our sexuality should also be like. Whether distal—the body language of a model advertising handbags—or proximal—the x-rated files on your boyfriend’s laptop—hyper-sexualised media represent women the same way: airbrushed, thin and horny. In the media story we should all have a flowing, abundant, liquid libido. Our lips should be perpetually glossed. We should be always in the mood and look as tantalising as we taste.

Is women’s desire in the Western world at an all-time low? Could it be that despite feminists’ efforts to gain sexual freedom we’re just . . . not that into it?

The gap between the libido of ordinary women and the libido of women presented in the media leads to the pathologisation of female sexuality—where low libido is seen as a ‘disease’. Women’s first line of defence is often to launch beautification projects to try to appear desirable. The divergence between our über-sexed public space and our sexually muted private lives also sets up an opening for drug companies and their pharmaceutical cures (see Chapter 6).

Libido refers to our sexual drive, but also our general vigour and enthusiasm. Low libido leads to reduced interest in sex and reduced creative expression of our sexuality. However, rather than dissipating altogether, our libido often gets funnelled from sex into other areas of our life: Our career can gobble that intense, heady focus. As can our homes, dinner tables and wardrobes. And most undoubtedly, a singular absorption with our children can supersede even the early, blossoming stage of limerence.

In other words, often it is not that our libido is low, but rather that our creative energy is being directed elsewhere, from seduction and carnality to more contained pursuits.

Hence the phenomenon of DINS, double income no sex, couples who are cashed up but sex poor. A surfeit of factors can influence the current of our sexual desire. Low libido relates to physical, psychological, interpersonal and wider cultural factors. It reflects our previous sexual history and whether we are single, newly in love, with a long-term partner, or a parent, and the extent of our satisfaction with these roles. It may reflect our body image, health, stress levels, hormones, emotional wellbeing, and expectations about sex and desire.

If your libido is not as high as you’d like it to be, here are some questions to explore. Is this low libido lifelong, or recently acquired? Are you or your partner bothered by it? Are you aware of its primary cause? Is your libido being funnelled into other areas of your life? Is your sexual self-esteem negatively affecting your libido? To what extent are you willing to boost your libido, or do competing demands or interests come first? And what would your ideal sexuality be like?

Molly, 31, lives in Vancouver, married, mother of a little girl

Tell me about your desire.

It would be really nice to be in the mood sometimes and actually initiate sex. But then I wonder, maybe I’m just not like that. I mean, once the newness of a relationship is over, when that excitement and mystery normalises, then you have irritations with your husband over not doing enough housework or spending enough time with our daughter, and it just really depletes any sex drive I might have had.

Do you think you’d see a doctor or healer about low libido?

I don’t want to talk about it to anyone. I don’t really believe in psychotherapy. I did once feel like acupuncture opened a sexual meridian or something. Afterwards I was working on the computer and suddenly felt like yay, I’m in the mood and went to look for my husband.

So for now will you just accept your level of desire as is?

Once my daughter’s a bit older, once there’s more time and sanity, then I’ll be willing to look at other options. Right now I’ll settle for lazy, infrequent sex at my husband’s initiation.

Do you think your low levels of desire are only about being a mum?

I don’t think so, although it’s a big part of it.

Do you get upset about having a low sex drive?

I’m too tired to care. I know it’s frustrating for my husband . . . Sometimes I feel like it’s one aspect of my womanhood that I’m not in touch with and I feel like, yeah, that’s part of me that hasn’t been awakened yet and that is bothersome. And I do get a little envious of women who are way more in touch with sexuality and have healthy sexual hunger.

Where do you think your low sexual desire comes from?

Previous to my husband I haven’t had healthy or passionate sexual experiences, and so when I first met my husband, I had to go through a lot of stuff. I was very uncomfortable in some positions, sometimes I started crying, there was a lot of healing in order. I feel like a lot has been put to rest, but at the same time I don’t feel very confident in my sexuality and being a sexual being.

Would you take a drug to cure low libido?

I don’t think so; I don’t even take Tylenol [paracetamol]. It would be a really weighty decision for me.

I’ve come across women where sex is like a chore to put on the fridge beside mopping the floor. I’m not that bad. In general, I do want it, but I can’t be bothered with everything that comes with initiating it, the effort involved . . . I guess I might be physically lazy. I’m happy to take it, but I can’t be bothered climbing on top. I’m just like, come and get me. It’s the only way I enjoy it, otherwise I’m not interested.

At the start of a relationship, that’s all you want to do with the person. I think maybe I’ve had no interest in sex for five years, on and off. I go through phases. Also I find when I’m on a hormonal contraceptive, I really don’t want it, so I’m not on them because I go pyscho and I don’t want sex, so there’s no point going on them.

Lee, 31, lives in Melbourne with her partner and is a mother of two children in primary school.

My sex drive has always been poor. It’s almost like it’s switched off. It doesn’t feel normal. I don’t feel like my whole body is engaged in sex. I feel like I have to work harder to get to the levels you need to reach to get enjoyment and it should be the opposite: the more you relax the more you’re in the moment. I’m just not turned on.

Of the various factors that impinge upon our libido, there is often physical, psychological and sociocultural overlap.

A range of phyical factors can dampen our libido. These include conditions such as anaemia (common in women because of iron loss during periods), kidney failure, hypothyroidism (underactive thyroid gland) and diabetes, which may make arousal and orgasm difficult.⁹ Hyperprolactinaemia—a rare disorder in which the pituitary gland is overactive—also diminishes libido, as can the use of some medications, including certain antidepressants. Ironically, the same device that enables us to have spontaneous sex—the contraceptive pill—if containing the hormone progestin, may lower libido for some women.¹⁰ Alcohol or drug abuse can also alter sexual wellbeing and libido.

Some other conditions that can cause changes in female sexual desire include menopause, dyspareunia (painful sexual intercourse), infections such as thrush or urinary tract infections, and vaginismus—the involuntary clamping of the vaginal muscles, which makes penetration difficult, if not impossible. Pregnancy and breastfeeding also alter our hormone levels and object of focus.

The effects of hormones on female desire are covered in greater depth later, but we should note here that male sexual desire is also prone to the winds of change. Conditions that can cause a decline in male libido include age-related testosterone loss, impotence (the failure to achieve or sustain an erection sufficient for intercourse) and premature ejaculation.

In the histories of women with low libido, a number of factors tend to recur. Many women reveal sex-negative family attitudes. Others have undergone traumatic experiences such as sexual harassment, molestation, abuse or assault.

Depression can cause lethargy, lack of motivation and withdrawal from activities including sex. Stress hormones can also reduce sexual desire and response. Work stress, financial stress and everyday worries draw us away from sensual living, and it is common for women to feel too tired for sex.

Lucille, 39, lives in Sydney, married, owns online retail business, mother of two daughters aged 2 and 4

Tell me about your libido.

It’s pretty non-existent. It’s very, very rare that I ever really think about doing it, and usually if I do think about it it’s if I had a sexy dream. I’m more interested in sex when I’m asleep than when I’m awake.

I’ve even wondered, am I a lesbian or something, because I used to be more sexually active than most women. I’ve had lots of partners and stuff, and now it’s just completely died.

Do you think your sexual desire has died off because of having young kids?

It isn’t the kids. And it’s not my husband either. I sometimes look at my husband and think yum, because he’s really attractive . . . Even when we do have sex, it’s fantastic. Maybe I’ve just gotten really lazy . . . I used to be a really active participant and now I can’t be bothered . . . And I wish I could be. I feel bad for my husband; he never complains.

Could tiredness be affecting your sex drive?

Well, I am really tired, but I don’t see that as an excuse. How long is an average sex session? It takes longer to drink a cup of coffee, really. I don’t buy that. I definitely think there’s something in the way. I don’t use the too-tired excuse—I mean I do use it with my husband, but I don’t really believe it.

How about sexual esteem—does the way you feel about your body affect your libido?

No. Look, I have changed since I met my husband. I’ve put on 20 kilos, but I’m not self-conscious with him, and he’s the only man I haven’t been really self-conscious in front of. I’m confident that he’s attracted to me, because I know he never looks at me with a critical eye. When I was 20 kilos less, some men would say I was too fat.

Perhaps because you are so confident, you feel you don’t need to work to keep his attention?

My last long-term partner always told me I was overweight. I think he had the power over me. But I have the power over my husband, so I make him work for it.

Additionally, sharing a home with parents—or worse yet, parents-in-law—has a way of dampening desire. And nothing dampens libido like a toddler, or domestic drudgery, which may explain why one survey found that the majority of women would prefer their husbands to Hoover rather than hold them.¹¹ On the other hand, over 30 per cent of women in a British survey claimed that cleaning gave them more satisfaction than sex!¹²

For many women, emotional closeness is a prelude to sex. A lack of or decrease in sex drive can indicate ongoing relationship issues such as lack of communication or trust, unresolved conflicts or fighting, and poor communication of sexual needs or desires. Issues from our childhood or previous intimate relationships can also affect current feelings about sex and sexuality.

Although libido is usually strong during courtship, desire often dissipates. And were the discerning eye more observant during courtship, one would notice that even then desire was likely more in the hands of one than the other; that there was an unambiguous pursuer, and the one who responded. Initially, these inequitable libidos were part of what gave the relationship dynamic friction and oomph. But after limerence passes, we are no longer left with what the vision of first love promised.

If both parties are satisfied with a shift from romance to companionship, there’s nothing much to worry about, continue planting your vegie patch, working on your golf swing or blog. But in most cases desire becomes unequal. Uneven. One wants more. The other is happy with less, or none at all. One longs, attempts, advances, the other thwarts, withdraws. A difference between two people’s desire levels is referred to as ‘desire discrepancy’. Dealing with mismatched sex drives is often difficult for a couple. Subterranean thoughts seep into the relationship . . . resentments, not feeling understood, not feeling desired . . . a sense that your true self is not being recognised . . . guilt that you’re not able to satisfy her. Or him. Desire discrepancies can lead to conflicts, a greater lack of desire for sex, and eventually to adultery or separation.

It appears that many women make a great deal of effort to be seductive during the courtship and early relationship phases, then ease off as the relationship becomes more established. Some take their sexual life for granted and become sensually inattentive. At some point we may need to acknowledge that attitude can be a primary reason for low libido and that an effort is necessary to bring sex back.

Indeed, when it came to sex, many of the Australian interviewees used the expression that they ‘couldn’t be bothered’. One factor in some women’s lowered sex drive is over-confidence of their partner’s affections. Sure that their partner is loyal, they feel no need to use libido to maintain his interest. Because there is no gap to bridge, she makes no effort. With the chase over, she has nothing to prove.

It strikes me that we are absent of a script. Rom-Coms and women’s literature seem to be all about finding love, not tending to it.

As we are single for longer before marriage, with many of us experimenting with different partners, we learn to be self-reliant, and our sexuality is tied up with our solo persona. Generally, the media focus on sex in terms of being single and in the quest for fulfillment, chasing and being chased. If sex is generally understood in the context of securing a partner, what happens next? How does love work when you have been together for years and years? What role does sex play within the dynamic of monogamy? The truth is that long-term monogamy and parenthood alter us, unsettle our previously built sexual personas. With the game itself changed, it’s not just reappropriation or rechanneling of our energy that is called for but a redefining of our sexual selves.

Gender, religion, culture and the media shape our ideas about monogamy, premarital sex, non-reproductive sex, contraception, homosexuality, male and female sexual roles, what is good and bad sexual behaviour, and whether or not light bondage is a good way to spend an afternoon. Guilt and sexual shame can have a debilitating impact on libido—although taboos can also add a sexual charge. The contraception now widely available to Western women has had an enormous impact on our sexual freedom and creative sexual expression, but is seems to have contributed to the myth that our libido should be perpetually hot, and eager? In societies where women lack ready access to birth control, safe, legal abortion and sexual health checks, women are also more likely to associate sex with danger and to receive harsh punishments if they do not accord to local gender rules.

As we have seen, low sexual self-esteem negatively impacts female libido, as does the multiple roles of modern women: wife, career woman, mummy, domestic goddess, friend, and, of course, sex bomb. Culture colours all aspects of the above, shaping our sexual preferences, desires, fears and practices.

Interestingly, research shows that once in a secure relationship, a woman’s sex drive begins to plummet.¹³ An interview-based German study found that, four years into a relationship, less than half of 30-year-old women desired regular sex. After 20 years the rate dropped to 20 per cent. Men’s libido, on the other hand, remained pretty constant. Oh how predictable.

Adopting an evolutionary approach to explain this, the lead author of the study argued that men’s steady libido is designed to discourage female infidelity, whereas women’s charged sex drive at the beginning of a relationship allows her to bond with a partner and, once this is established—think ring, babies, joint Facebook account—her sexual appetite can safely decline. Plus, if her interest in sex is only sporadic, the relative value of sex with her is heightened, further enticing the man she has partnered with. Human beings, after all, generally desire that which is not in infinite supply. Like the next iPhone.

The seemingly greater consistency of men’s desire may be partly due to biology, but it also reflects gender norms. Since women and men are expected to have different libidos, they learn to experience desire differently. Women are raised to be careful and circumspect, to guard their virginity, to distrust their sexuality; men are taught something altogether different. (Watch any beer ad.) They are taught to be sexually curious, bold, to stalk sex, crave it, and then, in any given circumstance, consume it. This long history of women’s sexuality being curtailed—limited and narrowly defined across cultures—has prevented us from knowing what female sexuality actually is in its natural form. Never encouraged to come into its own, to find its own form, female sexuality has remained mysterious, unresolved, an unknown.

At any rate, anthropology tells us that those who unite for reasons other than desire fare much better. Marrying for love is a relatively recent phenomenon. Anthropologists John Borneman and Laurie Hart write, ‘The cult of romantic love in a companionate marriage is a recent innovation in the history of marriage. While romantic passion has existed in all societies, only in a few has this unstable emotion been elaborated and intensified culturally and considered the basis for the social institution of marriage.’¹⁴ In the past, marriage was chiefly a financial affair, linked to status, property, inheritance, or in some places, the exchange rate of cows per bride. It certainly wasn’t built on something as torrid and fleeting as passion.

If marriage was the stock market, a savvy investor would avoid any bonds associated with love. For the type of love that Westerners chase doesn’t, by and large, last the distance. Arranged marriages, although they have their drawbacks, boast a global divorce rate of 4 per cent. In Australia, the US, and Canada it is around 40 per cent. What do Japan, China, Turkey, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, Bangladesh and India know that we don’t?

Typically, an arranged marriage starts off with fewer expectations about what the other person—and love itself—will provide. Love in the arranged marriage tends to unfold, as each person gets to know, trust and rely on the other. Whereas mate choice for us, is similar to our experience of consumerism. Sociologist Zygmunt Bauman writes that ‘consumer life favors lightness and speed; also the novelty and variety that lightness and speed are hoped to foster and expedite’.¹⁵ Seeking instant gratification and armed with a list of desires to be fulfilled, we have expectations of love so grandiose they practically guarantee relationship seppuku. I do, until you disappoint me. I do, until someone better comes along. I do, until it gets too hard.

Modern love invites strife. On one hand we are told that Love is thrilling, all-important and sex is everywhere, and on the other hand we have what happens inside our four little walls.

Who measures up? No one. But advertising is built on creating a fantasy life that is just out of reach. Buy this, and you will be greater, better, happier, closer to perfect. And sexier. Few of us are immune to the lure.

Having discarded the various incarnations of god—within, without, animal or man—many have decided to take matters of their soul into their own hands. What guidance religion might have offered before—how to curb greed, not fancy our neighbor, and be happy with what we have—has been replaced by a remote control and voodoo pills to suck the sunshine back in. New purse, new car, new lover—buy it, runs the mantra, across the seas, deserts and aisles, and when it loses its gloss, trade it in.

In that climate, commitment and fidelity are often difficult to maintain as relationships become routine and sexually monotonous. In contrast, affairs often present a utopian edge, a chance to break-away from everyday domesticity.¹⁶

Over time, the unsatisfied sexual partner may look to another to fulfill their libido and do so covertly. Indeed throughout history and across cultures, the prerogative of many men was not to seek sexual satisfaction in long-term monogamy, but rather to have different women to cater to his different life desires: someone to care for him and his children, someone he can date and impress, and someone who will regularly suck his cock.

A couple’s appetite for sex tends to fall over time. Relationships that begin in sexual intensity often shift into lower gear. For some, the new dynamic of companionship and trust can be just as fulfilling.

Australian sex therapist Rosie King believes there are distinct levels of sexual desire, and that most people with lifelong low libido are simply at the lower end of the normal range. She sees the scale of desire, from highest to lowest, as follows:

• initiatory—here you are motivated to have sex, look out for sexual opportunities and feel, in her words, ‘horny’

• receptive—in the next level, you are receptive to sex and willing to engage if your partner initiates

• available—here you are prepared to have sex, but don’t feel spontaneous lust

• disinclined—you experience no lust or interest in sexual activity.¹⁷

Concerns about sexual desire can be traced to society’s dictate that the only normal level of sexual desire is initiatory. In reality, after limerence fades, the vast majority of women will never feel enough spontaneous sexual urge for them to make the first move and initiate sex. In the post-limerence period, most women will move back and forth between receptive and disinclined levels of desire.¹⁸

King adds that ‘most women can’t rely on high levels of libido to propel them to have sex. If women wait until they feel overcome by lust, lovemaking will rarely, if ever, happen.’¹⁹

Could this be true? Do most women in established relationships almost never feel enough spontaneous desire to make the first move?

It’s interesting, isn’t it. Women rarely feel ‘spontaneous urges’ to spend hours gruelling away in the gym, or have their bikini line waxed, yet we put enormous effort into such pursuits. We want to project ourselves as fully sexual beings, but when it comes to sex itself, we’d just as soon leave it as take it.

In the course of a long-term relationship there are periods of transition when our sex life changes. Research has shown that frequency of sex declines over the duration of the relationship; as people age; as a result of life pressures; and after having children—the more children, and the younger they are, the greater the decline.

Sexual activity is hard to measure and examine. Many studies measure levels of activity only for the month previous to the interview or survey, probably because most people are more likely to accurately recall recent sexual activity. But of course the previous month isn’t necessarily representative of someone’s ‘normal’ sexual activity. They could have just been having a slow patch.

Unsurprisingly, people in stable, happy relationships tend to report a greater frequency of intercourse than those in strained or stressed ones.

Let’s now look at some studies about sex for newlyweds, those in long-term relationships, those in same-sex relationships, and those in sexless relationships. Is all that starts off fiery destined to fizzle out?

A 2008 study analysed sexual expectations and satisfaction among 72 newlywed couples over a six-month period. It found that 61 per cent of husbands and 49 per cent of wives reported some decline in sexual satisfaction, and that ‘those who experienced the highest satisfaction at the beginning of the marriage were most susceptible to declines in satisfaction over time.’²⁰

It makes me think of that saying. If you were to put a marble in a jar every time you made love your first year of marriage, and then in your second year began to take a marble out every time, you’d never remove all the marbles from the jar.

In their 2009 meta-analysis of 25 studies, the researchers Bianca Acevedo and Arthur Aron²¹ outlined the major theories of love. For example, Berscheid and Hatfield in 1969 proposed two major types of love: passionate love, defined as ‘a state of intense longing for union with another’ that is ‘characterised by intrusive thinking, uncertainty, and mood swings’; and companionate love, ‘the affection and tenderness we feel for those with whom our lives are deeply entwined’, and which does not necessarily include sexual desire or attraction. Lee in 1977 identified six basic love styles: eros (romantic love), ludus (love that is played as a game or sport; conquest), storge (friendship love), pragma (love that is driven by the head, not the heart), mania (obsessive love), and agape (motherly love). Sternberg in 1986 suggested that love consists of three basic components—passion, intimacy and commitment—in different combinations: passionate love, infatuated love, fatuous love and so on. Berscheid in 1983 proposed an interruption model: temporary interruptions, such as separations, may ignite passionate love, including its obsessive component. (Think make-up sex.) Finally, Arthur and Elaine Aron’s 1986 self-expansion model suggested there are natural mechanisms, such as shared participation in new and exciting activities, that can promote long-term romantic love. The authors of the meta-analysis concluded that romantic love can exist in long-term relationships and is strongly associated with relationship satisfaction, and that it doesn’t necessarily run out or turn into companionate love. Obsession, on the other hand, negatively correlates with relationship satisfaction in the long term, but positively correlates with short-term relationships—hence all those glorious week-and-a-half relationships of our 20s.

Sexual satisfaction has been found to be related to physical aspects of sexuality (frequency of sex, orgasms), psychological aspects involving the couple (e.g. the woman’s perspective of how close she is to her partner), socioeconomic factors (such family income), and demographic factors (age at marriage, educational level, number of children, religiosity, gender and ethnicity).

A study of 87 people in long-term heterosexual relationships (ages 23 to 61) found that those with greater relationship satisfaction also reported greater sexual satisfaction. Poor communicators reported decreases in both relationship and sexual satisfaction over the 18 months of the study.²² Other research shows that husbands’ and wives’ ratings of satisfaction with their sex life were significantly related to the overall quality of their marital relationship.

A 2009 study looked at sexual desire and satisfaction in same-sex versus heterosexual relationships. Most of the 423 participants were white and well educated.²³ Those in same-sex relationships reported slightly higher levels of sexual desire, masturbation and fantasising about others. Generally, men reported somewhat more sexual desire than women. Women, however, had slightly higher levels of general sexual satisfaction across a wide range of non-orgasmic sexual practices.

After reviewing the research literature on lesbian sexuality, Margaret Nichols notes that although lesbian couples seem to have less sex than heterosexual couples, they spend more time on sex and include more nongenital acts, which results in more orgasms for both partners.²⁴

Let’s look at some other numbers. When it comes to sex, how often is often, and how often is not often enough?

A study of almost 3500 Americans aged 18–59 found that 54 per cent of men said they thought about sex every day or several times a day but 67 per cent of women said they thought about it only a few times a week or less. When it came to actually having sex, a third said they did it twice a week or more, one-third a few times a month, and one-third a few times a year or less.²⁵

Another US study found the frequency of marital sex in 6785 respondents declined with age, from an average 11.7 times during the previous month for participants aged 19–24, to 2.4 times for participants aged 65–69.²⁶

Survey findings from the 2011 five-country study (Brazil, Germany, Japan, Spain and the US) about sexual satisfaction among 1009 couples found that 64 per cent of men said they were sexually satisfied, 69 per cent of women said they were sexually satisfied and the average number of sex acts in the last four weeks was 5.74 times for men and 5.52 times for women. (Note: the study was supported by an ‘independent investigator-initiated grant’ from pharmaceutical company Bayer-Schering.)^[27]

The condom maker Durex’s 2006 Sexual Wellbeing Survey of 26,000 people in 26 countries,²⁸ via on-line questionnaires, gives us some interesting (if not necessarily representative) findings.

It found that 60 per cent of Australians, 55 per cent of Brits and 53 per cent of Americans had sex once a week, but fewer than half of respondents were sexually satisfied. The Japanese came out worst, with only 34 per cent having weekly sex and only 15 per cent satisfied. Greeks and Brazilians led the pack, with 87 percent and 82 percent having weekly sex, but only about half satisfied.

Respondents in Mexico, South Africa, Italy and Spain reported having the most orgasms (66 per cent), while those in China and Hong Kong came in last (24 per cent); globally, twice as many men as women regularly had orgasms. Nigerians spent the longest time per sex session (24 minutes), and Indians the least (13.2 minutes). Australians spent on average 17 minutes per sexual session, below the global average of 18.3 minutes.

If we consider the time we spend at the gym, reading magazines, web surfing, watching TV or shopping, it’d be a lot more than 17 minutes. And yet 40 per cent of Australians wanted more time alone with their partners, and 41 percent desired more romance and love. Spot the disconnect.

Let’s look now at the way experts define ‘sexless’. Sexless relationships, apparently, are those in which people have sex ten times a year—almost once a month—or less.²⁹ This seems extreme to me. Think about all those people who have been married for a decade or longer. All those people with kids. All those men and women going through manopause or menopause. If they are all able to have sex almost once a month, I say good on them.

A 2008 study focused on 77 people who desired sexual contact with their partner but were consistently rebuffed.³⁰ This involuntary celibacy affected the quality of their relationships, creating sexual dissatisfaction, feelings of frustration, depression and rejection, difficulty concentrating, and low self-esteem. Reasons for staying in sexless relationships included: other, non-sexual benefits; a lack of alternatives; social proscriptions against divorce, such as religious reasons, social image and commitment to the ideal of marriage; and other investments, such as children or economic stability. To cope with celibate relationships, participants invested energy elsewhere. Some sought therapy (either as couples or individually), yet all reported that this hadn’t helped. Some gave up and no longer tried to initiate sexual contact, while others had other sexual outlets, namely masturbation or affairs.

From these studies we can conclude that people differ widely in how sex fits into their lives and the importance they place on its expression. What often starts off as heady and all-consuming can become a less central way of communicating. For many of us, this sexual demotion is the natural order of things.

Sexually inactive marriages tend to be viewed as ‘abnormal’ and stereotyped as troubled. However, it is possible for an inactive couple to be happy with their marriage as a whole, without sex defining its calibre. The hyper-focus on sexual frequency and the labelling of marriages that include sex ten times a year as ‘sexless’ reflects our obsession with sex as a measure of social worth. In our culture of sexual mania, it is dangerous to compare our sexuality to that of others, or to accept the current definitions of normal, abnormal, dysfunctional, healthy or sexless.

The problem with all this is that it is extremely difficult to measure ‘low’ or ‘normal’ desire, and the definition on which doctors are currently basing their diagnoses comes, as we shall see, from pharmaceutical company–funded research. Furthermore, what if low libido itself is a social construct, and isn’t a problem at all, but rather falls within the ‘normal’ range of female desire?

Turning the tables, what if a strong, avid libido is the exception for women, not the rule?