Is Celibacy Over Rated?

What I Learned About Sex, Intimacy, and Myself During Four Years of Celibacy

A title of an article on another Substack, by a younger writer, caught my attention last week, something about what the writer learned after a year of being celibate. I must confess I didn’t read further, but my suspicion (and I’m prepared to be proven entirely wrong) is that she learned about her relationship with sex, her own body, her need for validation from men, and how not engaging in sex informed other aspects of her life.

During the last four years of my decade-long marriage, while in my thirties, I was celibate. I say that casually because, at the time, it didn’t feel like a very big deal. Of all the questions I am asked, in the top three are how can I bring back the sex in my sexless marriage. I know of more couples that don’t have sex than those that do.

For me, the lack of intimacy in my marriage coincided with a period in which my children were permanently attached to me. This may be controversial, but I adored breastfeeding. My first son breastfed for well over a year. The second, who came a couple of years later, I breastfed for about ten months.

I recall the lovely, woozy feeling I had while feeding them, which was often, and how that created less desire for other types of physical touch. When you’re in a long-term relationship and have kids, keeping the sex alive can be a real challenge. This was especially true for me, as the closeness I felt to my babies meant I didn’t prioritise my relationship with my husband. Plus, we never spoke about our fantasies and desires, which led to very pedestrian and, frankly, monotonous sex. I’m someone who thrives on variety and creativity in all areas, and the lack of either in my marriage eventually led to less and less interest in it.

And then, something changed.