I get lots of attention from men — but my new boyfriend keeps rejecting sex

How I Do Itsex life

This week we hear from Jasmine* a 24-year-old data analyst living in London who says she is ‘newly cuffed’.

She’s been with her boyfriend Matt* for a couple of months now, after being single for the past two years.

But, she fears the honeymoon period is already over – they used to have sex every day, but now it’s just once a week, at most.

‘Before Matt*, I had a period of time where the idea of sex was of no interest to me, avoiding it at all costs. It made me think I had a pretty low sex-drive but my new relationship has turned that upside down,’ Jasmine says.

Jasmine loves that she feels safe during sex with Matt, but worries that it’s already dropping off.

‘My sex drive has never been higher, which I am finding difficult to keep control of.’

‘I want to keep trying new things in a safe space with my partner, I don’t want to have boring vanilla sex on a routine basis. It’s nice to be kept on your toes,’ she says.

So, without further ado, here’s how Jasmine got on this week…

.

We’ve only been together a few months, but we’ve seemed to establish an unwritten rule: we do our own thing on a Monday. He’s at his and I’m at mine, working from home on opposite sides of London.

Sex isn’t on my mind – I’m racing through my emails and there’s a lot to do; I am actually focusing for once, keen to set myself up for a good week ahead.

This is a rare, as I seem to have become a sex-crazed monster lately. It’s often all I can think about. Up until two weeks ago, there wasn’t a single day Matt and I had spent together without f**king – often multiple times throughout the day, on the bed, sofa and balcony. All very animalistic and all very great.

He’s the first partner I’ve had who I’ve enjoyed giving, more than taking, quite happily getting on my knees and sucking him off at any point in the day. It really turns me on.

But something seems to have changed recently. We’re not having sex as much as we used to and it makes me fear the honeymoon stage is over. What’s also becoming clearer is that my sex drive is significantly higher than his. He never seems to initiate, but also, I don’t really give him the time to because I always want him.

I go to bed with these fears, but I’m hopeful we get back on track this week and it’ll all feel good again.

I’m excited to see Matt after work – we booked dinner and the theatre weeks ago, and the date has finally come around. It’s a warm day in London and he’s dressed for it; he never looks more attractive than in his white linen shirt and cargo shorts.

The minute I catch sight of him I want to drag him home and spend hours in bed, but instead we have a very civilised dinner and go to a rather depressing play (we need to start reading the blurbs before booking things) which mutes my horniness significantly.

We get back to my place for around 11pm. The minute we’re in bed I start kissing him everywhere I can, but he just doesn’t seem into it. I feel my heart drop a bit. I know it’s healthy and normal to have rejection in a relationship – it’s very hard for two people to want sex at the exact same time – but I can’t help how shit it makes me feel.

As a single person it never really happened. I had full control of my sex life, and I wouldn’t be bringing someone home unless we both wanted the same thing. The sex was never as good as it is now, but I always felt wanted and desired.

The men I used to bring home were all over me, not telling me they were too tired and then yapping about how difficult Bob from the office is making their week.

I remind myself that being in a relationship is a completely different kettle of fish and I know I need to get over the ego hit and just respect his boundaries. I can’t help but overthink it all as we fall asleep, wondering if this is what it’s going to be like from now on.

Neither of us need to be in the office today, which means it’s a WFH day together. This are great for several reasons. Importantly, it means there’s time for morning sex.

No rushing around each other to make our respective tubes in, instead we can have a leisurely awakening and a sexy and messy morning shag, logging on whilst simultaneously cleaning up and finding our undies in the pile of sheets by the bed.

This is how we often start our WFH days, and usually the morning event is the first of plenty of action to come. There’s been a few occasions where pointless meetings are left in the background (camera off and mute on of course), whilst we slip our clothes off and enjoy a 3.15pm rendezvous.

But there’s none of that today. By 6.30am he’s already logged on while I’m still struggling to get my eyes open. His screen is very bright and there is too much blue light in my bed right now.

I know he’s usually hornier in the morning and so I still try my luck, rubbing him slowly until he’s hard. He looks satisfied and the laptop looks like it’s about to go away and I get excited, but he gets distracted by some other thing he wants to get done.

He kisses me away and carries on with work. No sex later either. Again, I know I shouldn’t be so upset, but it just feels crap. The beginning of the end? Am I being melodramatic?

After work I go straight to my ballet class. I wonder if all this sexual frustration is making me a better dancer, because I’m moving the best I have in a while. Maybe all the flexibility not being used in the bedroom is being put to work in the studio.

I laugh at how not that long ago, my Thursday nights looked very different. I was often swimming in pints at City bars, flirting with several suits and bringing my favourite one home.

Unsurprisingly, private school boys in finance who think they are God’s gift to women often tend to be better flirts than f**ks. Female pleasure seems to be a foreign concept to many of them – money can buy lots of things, but an ability to find the g-spot is not one of them.

So, I’m now lucky to be with a man who loves giving as much as he gets, someone who has mastered the art of giving excellent head. He loves to go down on me and make me come, no matter how long it takes. The Thirsty Thursdays crowd would never.

I call him after class and he makes me giggle. We stay on the phone for hours chatting away, and I feel very in love.

The weekend! Hurrah! I go round to his with a bottle of wine and we pick up some pizzas and head to the park, enjoying the evening sun and each other’s company.

I lie on his chest and his arm is wrapped around me. We watch the other couples lying next to each other adopting similar positions, the adorable children running around and giggling and the unexpected swarms of parakeets gliding above us. Things feel peaceful and content. I decide to ruin it all on our walk home.

I tell him how I’ve been feeling the past couple weeks, with regards to our sex life. I tell him that I miss the ravenousness of our first couple of months together and I don’t understand why things have changed.

I tell him I feel like I need more but also that I feel guilty for wanting more. I tell him I love him and just want to understand if I am doing something wrong and, if so, how I can fix it. We talk in circles for hours, expressing how we feel.

There’s tears, frustration and honestly a lack of resolution. It makes me wish I hadn’t said anything at all. He comes up with contradictory excuses for why he won’t touch me anymore, and none of it really makes sense to me.

It makes me worry that we’re not as compatible as we thought we were, and we both go to bed sad that we can’t make the other person happy.

I think he knows it’s frustrating me, so it feels like he’s extra affectionate all day, little pecks, and loving smiles – all very nice, but all very non-sexual.

We spend the day pottering around, going out for lunch, meeting some friends followed by a spot of TV on the sofa. I don’t even try to sit too close to him on the sofa because I don’t have it in me to take another bout of rejection. It feels like we’re both on eggshells.

I leave his early to go home and get ready for a birthday party we’re both going to; the theme is ‘saucy’. I spend hours getting ready and, whilst risking sounding obnoxious, I know I look great.

I’m in fishnets, a tiny corset top and a tinier mini skirt, black heeled boots and big smoky eyes. If I was single and looking like this, I don’t think I’d have any trouble garnering attention. But when my boyfriend comes round to pick me up, he tells me I look nice and goes back to his phone – eyes glued to the Olympics. 

Nice is how I want to look if I was going to church – but Jesus Christ (pardon the pun) I am trying to look saucy! If I can’t turn him on like this, I wonder if I ever will.

We go to the party and have a great time regardless, heading back to his around 2am. We’re tired and drunk and fall asleep immediately.

I meet friends in the morning for a very hungover brunch, and they ask how the new relationship is going. I consider lying because I feel embarrassed by my own horniness but just end up blurting out the truth.

I’m shocked by their responses. Every single person at that table has experienced it in one relationship or another! I ask them why this hasn’t come up before, and they say they too just felt too embarrassed to ever speak openly about this stuff.

We chat for hours about the intricacies of each of our experiences and I feel so relieved. They remind me all of this is so normal, it’s classic teething issues, and it’s about time we stopped shagging like rabbits and left the honeymoon stage and entered reality. I have no desire for reality, but understand their points regardless.

I go for a run, cook some food for the week and hang out with my flatmates. I convince myself that everything will be fine, that I can adjust to this new normal, and that worst comes to worst, I will just have to adjust to letting out any sexual steam alone. It’s not like that’s never been done before.

He comes around that evening, as we know we won’t have time to see much of each other next week. He has a cheeky glimmer in his eye and slides a shiny red pack across the bed.

The packet is Durex’s very own thin-feel condoms and I see Matt has a very hard member. I’m beaming at the sight of both. I tell him we don’t have to do anything if he doesn’t want to, that I don’t want him to feel like he has to do this to because of all the depressing chats from the weekend.

He tells me to shut up as he works his way down my body, settling his head and tongue in between my thighs. I gladly replace my words with moans, close my eyes and enjoy the moment.

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.