The Many Faces of Low Libido in Women
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According to stats and figures on female sexual dysfunction, too many women are suffering.
As many as half of all women experience low libido and as many as 75% experience painful sex, and that’s a lot of “sexually broken” women.
By what criteria?
Low libido (or hypoactive sexual desire disorder) is a medically-recognized sexual dysfunction that is characterized by:
“The absence of spontaneous sexual fantasies and sexual thoughts and/or desire for or receptivity to sexual activity that causes the personal distress or difficulties in her relationship.”
In other words … when a woman does not have spontaneous sexual desire or responds to spontaneous sexual advances.
Which is most women, most of the time.
Thanks to our “responsive sexual desire,” this is a fair description how most women experience sexual desire.
Using this older and outdated definition is not only making women feel shame for being broken.
It’s keeping us stuck — because it offers no way out.
Over the years in my journey to help women who suffer from low libido, I’ve encountered an endless array of conditions — environmental, internal and relational — that women’s libidos are responding too in a long-term monogamous relationship.
I call these the different faces of women’s low libido.
And there are 29 of them.
Many are sexual in nature.
Some are not at all.
All act as obstacles to women’s sexual desire in that they prevent her from accessing it.
And that’s the key to reversing this seemingly insurmountable condition:
It’s not that her sexual desire does not exist.
It’s that there are conditions that she’s responding to that simply keep it shut.
And conditions can be changed.
Take connection in a relationship, for example. I see this in my couples coaching all the time. If a woman is not getting enough connection with her partner, and if her body is not getting engaged prior to sex, sex will not be something that she’ll desire. Overtime, the weight of the emotional charge that comes from rejection and conflict, especially if her partner wants sex more often than she does, takes its toll on the disconnect, and her libido disappears. There is nothing wrong with her libido — it’s healthy — because it’s responding to one of the essential nutrients that she needs. Change the environment, shift their engagement to provide her the nutrients, and you have a changed libido.
As this quote goes:
“When a flower doesn't bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows — not the flower.”
Alexander Den Heijer
Labeling women with low libido is disempowering.
It makes it about her — how she is.
We blame the woman, and she blames herself. And that’s a downward spiral.
Instead, we need answers on how to get unstuck. Answers to how to find the keys and unlock the power within.
What conditions are barring her from accessing her sexual desire?
Where is she starving? What essentials nutrients is she missing?
And what does she need to come alive?
Below are the 29 different “faces” of women’s low libido. Some are circumstantial, some are internal, and most are relational. Most are a function of whether the sex that she’s having is worth wanting.
And if you’ve been struggling with low libido or a loss of sexual desire in a long-term relationship, identifying the face of your low libido will provide a path forward.
When you know what is missing in the environment, you can begin to take steps to get unstuck.
And you begin to feel in charge of your own experience, of your own sexual desire.
You begin to come alive.
As you read through the list, identify which one of these applies to you the most. Then take a survey at the bottom of the page to register your answers. Responses will be made public in the next blog post.
If you relate to at least one of them, then you might be interested in what I have to say at the end of this blog post.
Which one of these “faces” of low libido represents you the most?
In the beginning, I had a strong sexual desire for my husband, but sex itself was disappointing. I wanted it to be something more than just the same routine and the motions, but I didn’t know how to say it or what to ask for (more of what?). At some point, I gave up and resigned to never having the sex I like. I don’t crave it anymore now. I focus on other areas of our relationship.
I don’t feel respected or appreciated by partner for what I do at home. When he “expects” sex from me, I feel so used. I do not think about sex or want it.
My partner wants sex all the time, talks about wanting sex with me all the time, and I am under pressure to match his libido but nothing I do or want is ever enough. I never feel like I want sex and just do it to avoid the next fight or his bad mood.
I’ve never enjoyed sex and don’t see the point in it. It’s nothing like anyone describes. I just bear it and think about other things, but it’s good to do for the relationship.
Sex feels like so much hard work because it takes so long for me to “get in the mood” after a heroically busy day. I barely even have a moment to myself in peace, and I have no sexual energy to give to my partner even though I really love him and want to show him my love. It’s been like this for years that I have not felt sexual.
Our everyday fights have us walking on eggshells with each other and sex feels so invasive when we didn’t even move on from the last fight. I have a hard time bouncing back from an argument, because we get so intellectually heated with each other — but emotionally distant. I don’t think I remember a time when he had truly apologized or I felt heard or seen in my pain. I feel so guarded and don’t want to have sex at all to let him in.
What is there to want about sex? When we have it, it’s the same (short) disappointing routine of friction sex: a few minutes of kissing, him grabbing my breasts, inserting himself into me then orgasming. He is done, and I am waiting to see what there is for me.
I get into it when my partner initiates, but I never crave it afterwards. I don’t think about it or even remember that sex exists, until the next time he brings up the fact that we’re not having it or gets me going again. Between these times, I forget it exists.
Intercourse or penetrative sex has been painful for me, so I bear it long enough for my husband to come and get it over with. I can definitely be without sex for the rest of my life.
I cannot relax or turn my mind off during sex, and I can’t get into it at all. Then it’s just all performance and hard work for me, while he gets to enjoy himself. I definitely don’t crave sex; it’s more that I dread it.
Sex has never felt safe for me because it has always been full of pressure to do more than I want to or ready to. It’s too anxiety-producing, so I avoid it by keeping myself busy in other ways. I prefer to cuddle or avoid physical touch to keep it safe.
My partner thinks that me not wanting sex as much as he does is my problem to fix alone. The more he tells me this, the less I want sex with him.
We are so busy with our jobs and kids, and we only manage to have sex on vacation. Between vacations, I have no sexual desire or thoughts about sex whatsoever. It’s like I forget to be sexual.
I’ve never orgasmed and have been telling myself that “I don’t mind, I enjoy it anyways,” but secretly I crave to have that toe-curling orgasm everyone talks about. For a while, I wanted more sex to get it, but when it didn’t happen, I started to want sex less and less.
Since having a baby, I never want to have sex anymore. I don’t understand why, because I love my husband and he is such an amazing dad. But nothing in me wants it.
My religious upbringing planted seeds of guilt and shame about being sexual and I feel so contracted and shut down around it. I try to avoid it as much as possible, only doing it when I feel that my relationship is sliding away from me.
My body changed with menopause, and I no longer feel or even look like myself. Sex seems so far away from me.
I don’t feel good about myself and/or my body and don’t want to show it to anyone through sex. It’s exposure I don’t want.
I have fantasies and desires to explore sex (even with someone of my own gender) but I don’t share these with my partner, so sex felt like I have to pretend to not have them. It was tiring and I found myself withdrawing from wanting sex altogether.
Since both of us stopped the heavy drinking, I don’t desire sex with my husband anymore. I could easily have sex after a couple of bottles of wine; without, I have no sexual desire.
I’ve been taking medication that makes me feel so tired and disconnected to myself. I rarely think about sex or even remember that I’ve been sexual in the past.
We have different schedules and only get to spend time with each other on the weekends; according to my husband, I am supposed to want sex with him but all I want is to talk and connect. I feel bad that I am not wanting him sexually.
I struggle with chronic pain that I’m constantly managing, so sex is the last thing on my mind. Sexual desire feels non existent.
Sex is supposed to be about going out of control, and I don’t want anyone to see me that vulnerable. It’s too scary. I don’t want sex.
My husband stopped being affectionate and playful with me, and I don’t feel desired or sexually desirable — and I don’t feel sexual at all now. I find that my sexual desire disappeared when he stopped.
Over the years, I’ve watched my respect — and my sexual desire — for my partner fall as he has stopped taking care of himself and now engages in self-destructive behavior. Sex feels so far away.
My husband tells me that he needs to feel desired through sex, and that makes me not desire sex at all. Too much pressure and responsibility.
I don’t remember the last time we were romantic with each other — it’s all parent talk, house responsibilities, what each of us have done wrong, and work stuff. I don’t feel cherished, adored or like a woman, and wanting him sexually is the last thing on my mind.
I have a hard time receiving, it’s too vulnerable, and I prefer to give in sex — but I don’t seem to crave sex much.
If you identify with one or more of these “faces of low libido,” know that you are not alone.
This list comes from all the women that I have worked with who thought they had a libido problem. But as the flower analogy shows, they had an environment problem.
And there is a way out.
You were born with the capacity for libido.
Because libido is a capacity and desire for aliveness and pleasure in your body, it’s yours, first and foremost.
Yours to own.
Yours to nurture.
Yours to feed.
Yours to enjoy.
Yours to celebrate life with.
Your libido is your partner for life that walks with you wherever you go.
It may change over time, but it never goes away.
And because it’s a natural resource, you must tend to it — you must create a life in which you treat this partner the way you want to be treated.
And just like any resource that diminishes, you have to recharge and feed your libido.
Take this anonymous poll below to register what “faces” of low libido you resonate the most. Choose a maximum of 5 options that represent you the most. The poll results will be published in the next blog post.
Or comment below what spoke to you about this post.
When you’re ready to find your way back to yourself and your partner, here are a few options for you:
SCAN through my articles and you’ll find pearls of wisdom about women’s libido and reviving a sexless relationship.
ENROLL in my signature step-by-step FEED YOUR LIBIDO process to learn to know what you need, how to voice that, and what to do to connect to partner
SCHEDULE a consultation for you and your partner to explore individualized support