Generally I’ve been quite lucky in this respect. In the relationships I have had, my sexual tastes, appetites and desires have, broadly speaking, been evenly matched by my partners. That’s not to say they have always been in perfect synchronicity; there are always times one one or other of us was ill, or too tired, too stressed, too angry, or on certain occasions, just couldn’t be arsed. These things happen and it’s just part of being human and sharing a relationship with another human being. Yes, they can be frustrating, but they aren’t the end of the world.
For me, however, the thing that is most likely to throw me off my stride is depression. When my mood is low, sex is the last thing on my mind. It’s not easy to have much in the way of sexual desire when you have very little desire for living itself.
I’ve written before about the effects that depression can have on my libido. Arousal itself is sometimes hard to come by, and orgasm can be a hit or miss affair.
In a perverse way though, suppressed libido is a blessing in disguise. When I’m at my lowest, I don’t feel sexy, I don’t feel desirable; a lot of the time I simply just don’t feel anything apart from an overwhelming numbness. In such occasions lack of desire saves me from a frustration that would probably make me feel even worse.
This isn’t my most coherent post, I’ll admit. I suspect it hasn’t given anyone any deep insights into my personality, and I suspect it won’t tell you anything you don’t already know if you’ve followed me for any length of time.
The fact is, that with depression, often it is my whole life that is out of kilter. In such circumstances, the surprise is possibly that I feel any element of sexual desire at all.