Chances are, you’ve never heard of Shere Hite. I hadn’t, until six months ago.

Somehow, across my studies and readings as a sexologist, Shere’s name never came up.

It wasn’t until watching Fifty Shades of Grey last October that I fell into a Dakota Johnson rabbit hole and learned she had produced and narrated a documentary called The Disappearance of Shere Hite.

A whole documentary about one of the bestselling sexologists of all time whose forgotten name is, unfortunately, no accident.

So it feels right that on International Women’s Day, I kick off a new series called Women Sexologists You Should Know with a woman who changed how we understand female pleasure—and then slid out of the public eye.

This is a story about sex research, yes.

But it’s also a story about what happens to women who insist that their experience counts as evidence.

From Missouri to Manhattan

Born Shirley Diana Gregory in 1942, in St. Joseph, Missouri, she grew up in the American Bible Belt, raised by her grandparents after her mother had her at sixteen.

She earned a bachelor’s and master’s in history at the University of Florida before moving to New York City for graduate work at Columbia University.

To pay for her education, she modeled. Sometimes for book illustrations, sometimes for magazines, and—famously—for an Olivetti typewriter ad with the tagline, “The typewriter is so smart, she doesn’t have to be.”

When she found out about the tagline after she’d already shot the ad, she was enraged.

Shere joined feminists from the National Organization for Women (NOW) to protest, and that act became a hinge in her life: the woman used as a prop in a sexist ad crosses the picket line and becomes part of the movement to dismantle it.

From there, she moved deeper into women’s liberation work and, eventually, into sex research.

In the early 1970s, there were already big names in sex research: Kinsey, Masters and Johnson, all mostly focused on bodies as observed from the outside, in labs, through the lens of penetrative sex.

But at a NOW meeting, a conversation about female orgasm exposed something glaring: we had almost no data on women’s own experiences of pleasure in their own words.

Hite’s response was simple, yet subversive.

She took her graduate research training and wrote a long, open‑ended questionnaire—over sixty questions—and started handing it out to women, asking them to describe, in detail, how they felt about sex, orgasm, masturbation, relationships, and their bodies.

At first she distributed the surveys by hand around New York City, even enlisting her boyfriend and his motorcycle to ferry questionnaires around the boroughs.

She published an earlier book, Sexual Honesty, by Women, for Women, and used it to reach more respondents, then advertised nationally and invited women to mail their responses back.

Printing these surveys was not easy.

Shere found a publishing company that allowed her to print after hours, on her own dime. She wanted women to feel like they were writing in a diary, so she added colors and design elements to make it warm and inviting.

Out of roughly 100,000 questionnaires, about 3,000 came back in enough detail to analyze.

In 1976 she published The Hite Report: A Nationwide Study of Female Sexuality.

The book became an immediate bestseller, and remains so, with over 50 million copies sold worldwide.

The headline that made her famous—and infamous—was that about 70% of women in her study did not have orgasms from intercourse alone, but were able to orgasm easily via masturbation or other direct clitoral stimulation.

In other words: the problem is not women’s bodies.
The problem is what we’re calling “sex.”

Women at the time felt seen, reassured, even vindicated.
Men felt mocked or threatened. Playboy dubbed it “The Hate Report.”

Reading Hite now, it’s striking how obvious this sounds.

But nothing about it was obvious in 1976, when Freud’s old binary—”vaginal” orgasm as mature, “clitoral” as childish—still haunted women’s understanding of how they “should” experience pleasure.

Here’s the part of the story that becomes uncomfortably familiar.

Hite’s work was attacked from multiple angles.
Methodologists criticized her sampling and statistics, arguing that self‑selected respondents could not stand in for “American women,” making the data suspect.

Media figures mocked her as hysterical, man‑hating, unscientific.

Television appearances became gauntlets.

In one clip in the documentary, she sits on The Oprah Winfrey Show facing an all‑male audience that openly berates her.

On another program, she’s ridiculed and interrupted as she tries to explain her findings.

At the exact moment when she had given millions of women a language for their pleasure, she was being publicly punished for her audacity.

The criticism wasn’t just, “We have questions about your methods.”
It was: Who do you think you are?

Her past as a model who posed nude was dredged up and used to discredit her.

Over time, the attacks escalated into a decade of sustained assault on her and her work.

She became the scapegoat for anxieties about porn, feminism, divorce, changing gender roles—everything that made people uneasy about the sexual revolution.

Double standards

As Hite’s critics loved to frame her as unscientific, they held up Masters and Johnson as the gold standard in contrast.

The irony? Masters and Johnson’s landmark 1966 study was based on lab observations of 694 volunteers—much smaller than her sample of 3,000, which proved to be more representative of American society at the time.

And while Masters and Johnson did conclude—crucially, against Freud—that there is no physiological difference between a “vaginal” and a “clitoral” orgasm, they also noted that internal clitoral structures extend beneath the labia, meaning penetration could stimulate the clitoris indirectly from the inside.

The broader culture absorbed this as “penetration works,” conveniently glossing over the word clitoris.

Hite, by contrast, was relentless about what that actually meant for women’s lived experience: if most of you aren’t orgasming from penetration alone, then penetration-centered sex is not serving women.

But before the backlash, there was a spectacular rise.

The Hite Report made her rich. She moved from her cockroach-infested apartment, repaying everyone who had helped fund the research, and landed on Fifth Avenue—the same building Gene Simmons called home.

She also used the funds to continue investing in her research, committed to self-funding her work on her own terms, beholden to no institution that might redirect what she could ask or say.

Public crucifixion

And it didn’t stop with the first Hite Report.

In 1981, Hite published The Hite Report on Male Sexuality, and again she did what she always did: she asked men, in their own words, to describe their emotional and sexual lives.

More than 7,000 responded to the survey, reporting not feeling safe being emotionally vulnerable, craving more emotional support from their relationships, and experiencing loneliness within their own masculinity.

We know today that these are very real consequences of socialized masculinity—the research on male emotional suppression, the mental health crisis among men who can’t ask for help—it’s one of the most important conversations in psychology right now.

But in 1981, when male TV hosts interviewed Hite about it, they didn’t say, “Wow, that’s concerning.” They said, “The men in this book don’t sound like men I know.” And with that, they discredited both her and the men who had trusted her enough to tell the truth about their inner lives.

Shere Hite couldn’t win either way.

We love the language of empowerment; we’re less comfortable with the women who actually do the empowering.

Exile

Eventually, the pressure and death threats became unbearable.

In 1989, Hite moved to Germany with her husband, Friedrich Höricke, a concert pianist nineteen years her junior.

From there, she continued to write and publish—eventually on families and even her own memoir, The Hite Report on Hite: A Sexual and Political Autobiography.

But from the American mainstream perspective, she essentially vanished.
Her name receded, even as her ideas seeped into sex education, therapy, and the way we talk in bed.

She died in London in 2020, at 77, having lived for years with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s disease.

I feel a very particular tenderness towards Shere.

Like her, I came to this work through New York City. I also studied at Columbia University, and have had a sharp taste of what happens when you say something true and inconvenient about women’s pleasure out loud.

When my piece on “The Burden of Maintenance Sex” went viral, the responses that came in weren’t just disagreement—they were personal, corrosive attacks designed to make you wonder whether it’s worth continuing. She received that a thousandfold, for decades.

So on International Women’s Day, I want to remember Shere for the pioneer she was—and for paving the way for women like me to do the work I love today.

She won’t be the last woman in this series whose name you should know, but she’s the right one to start with.

If you’re curious about learning more, I invite you to watch her documentary The Disappearance of Shere Hite. It’s so well-done and what I’ve shared here is just a glimpse of her story.

And order The Hite Report or any of her other books. She poured her heart into them.

If you’re craving more support on your own intimacy journey, here are a few ways I can help:

1. I just started a new Instagram account for Lust in Translation @lustintranslationpod! I’d love to have you follow along and I’m excited to share that I’ll be extending this newsletter into a podcast next month. It’s been a dream of mine for 15 years.

2. Couples Intimacy Card Deck - Turn each other on, one question at a time. I created this deck for you and your partner to have fun talking about sex, exploring your desires and deepening your connection. Read the reviews and shop here. Get 10% off with code LUST10.

3. Transform Sex From Obligation to Anticipation - My 3-month coaching container helps women and couples build a sex life they look forward to. I have one opening starting mid-March, so if you’re interested please learn more and apply here.

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We’ve barely recovered from the holiday hangover, and Valentine’s Day is already two weeks away.

In this economy no one is exactly jumping at the thought of spending more money again, so I created this gift guide for those who want to give something thoughtful within their budget.

I’ve rounded up 14 gifts I genuinely use and love—things that actually enhance intimacy, relaxation, and pleasure—organized from wallet-friendly to splurge-worthy.

1. Momotaro Apotheca Organic Botanical Bath Soak, $28

Last weekend, my husband and I turned date night into a bath ritual. We lit candles, played Miles Davis, served ourselves some Cabernet, and dissolved this soak into hot water. Thirty minutes of pure relaxation thanks to mineral-rich magnesium salts, nourishing jojoba oil, and tea tree. It melts tension, softens skin, and is handcrafted in small batches in the US. Pairs beautifully with their Tonic Oil for post-bath glow.

2. Helen Phelan Studio Online Pilates, $29.99/month

It’s no secret that feeling good in your body builds sexual confidence and stamina. On days we skip the gym, my husband and I roll out our mats for Helen Phelan’s online pilates. Classes run 15-50 minutes, suit all levels, and require nothing but a mat. It’s challenging enough to make you feel accomplished but won’t leave you too exhausted for bedroom adventures later. Use code NATASSIA4945 at checkout to get $10 off your first month.

3. Epiphany Clit Serum, $34

This is a must-have that my friends and I carry in our purses at all times. One drop massaged onto your (or your partner’s) pleasure zone creates a tingling sensation that amplifies everything, especially orgasms.

4. The Boudoir Bible: The Uninhibited Sex Guide for Today, $35

Bondage? Role-playing? Anal? It’s all here in The Boudoir Bible, illustrated by artist François Berthoud. A comprehensive, gorgeous guide that gives sexuality in the 21st century the sophisticated treatment it deserves.

5. Wonderlust Intimacy Card Deck, $36

Turn each other on, one card at a time. Couples call it date night with happy endings for a reason. There are two levels of 69 cards each (yes, that’s intentional), building from romantic to seriously spicy, featuring stunning erotic art by Brazilian artist Nathalie Edenburg. Full disclosure: I created this deck, but the 5-star reviews speak for themselves. It’s the kind of gift you’ll reach for again and again.

6. Kate McLeod Sex Stone, $48

This massage and intimacy oil shaped like an actual stone is genius—it glides on skin like silk, enhancing touch and pleasure. I’ve already reordered mine (it comes in a reusable bamboo canister, which I love). Pro tip: it doubles as full-body moisturizer, but since it’s oil-based, skip it if you’re using latex condoms or silicone toys.

7. Alex Mill Cashmere Socks, $50

You’ve probably heard that wearing socks increases orgasm chances by 30%. The truth? That study happened in a freezing lab—and being cold is incredibly distracting. So no wonder I’m a winter sex-with-socks evangelist. These Alex Mill cashmere socks are genderless (my husband and I have matching sets), impossibly soft, and the ultimate cozy-sexy accessory.

8. Maude Come Undone Kit, $60

Maude partnered with Wuthering Heights (premiering February 13!) for this limited-edition kit. Inside there’s a Burn No. 3 massage candle and Oil No. 2 for bath and body—the ultimate combo for slow-burn desire and exploration (very on-brand for Brontë). It includes an exclusive poster and behind-the-scenes booklet for my film nerds.

9. Diptyque Baies Candle, $120

I was gifted this at a Secret Santa ten years ago and became instantly obsessed. It’s a cult favorite for a reason: clean musk with woody undertones creates a masculine-leaning scent that sets the mood without being cloying. The kind of candle that makes your space feel instantly more sophisticated.

10. Cere Pleasure Duo, $172

If you’re ready to level up, this is the move. This bundle pairs Cere’s award-winning Enchantment Gel with the Spellbound Stimulator—14 modes of air-wave and vibration designed to work in tandem. What I love about the dual stimulation is how versatile it is: you can explore your partner’s body in multiple ways, or use both sensations on yourself. I’m a fan of building arousal with the vibration first, then bringing in the suction for a more intense finish. It’s thoughtfully designed and worth every penny.

11. Magic Wand Waterproof Rechargeable Massager, $179.99

The Magic Wand is legendary for a reason—it’s the gold standard of powerful, reliable pleasure. This waterproof rechargeable version means you can take it into the bath or shower (game changer), and the intensity is unmatched. Whether you’re using it solo or with a partner, this is the kind of tool that becomes a staple.

12. The Ultimate Lovers Art Kit, $189.99

This is for couples who want to get messy in the best way. The Lovers Art Kit turns intimacy into abstract art—literally. You use your bodies, movement, and a whole lot of paint (12 extra colors included) to create something completely unique. It comes with stretcher bars so you can actually display your work of art. No skills required, just a sense of play and willingness to let go. Perfect for adventurous couples or anyone looking to try something totally different.

13. The Prim Sex Pillow, $195

Wedge pillows get recommended constantly by pelvic floor physical therapists and sexologists for good reason: they alleviate back and hip pain during sex while improving angles and pleasure. The problem? They’re usually ugly foam bricks you hide in the closet. The Prim solves this. It’s made with memory foam and custom washable linen, with a patented design that actually looks like a gorgeous throw pillow that belongs on your bed. Function meets form, finally.

14. Fleur du Mal Rouge Luxe Gift Set, $268

Wearing lingerie is one of my favorite ways to tap into my sensuality. My husband knows this, which is why silk sets like this are his go-to gift. This one from Fleur du Mal includes a Flutter Thong with a high-leg cut, a Luxe Triangle Bra, and a matching silk blindfold—all in rouge silk charmeuse. The ruffle detailing is delicate without being overly sweet, and the minimal silhouette feels effortlessly sexy. It’s the kind of piece that makes you both feel seen.

This guide is meant to be short and sweet, but if you’re looking for something that’s not listed, drop a comment or hit reply. I love helping people find the perfect gift!

And if you try any of these, please report back. I’m always curious what resonates.

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P.S. In case you missed it, last week’s post has been getting a lot of love:

Every year my husband and I sit down to plan our annual goals: what we want to experience, where we want to travel, who we want to spend more time with, how much money we want to make—and what we look forward to trying in bed.

It brings us closer, this act of dreaming, separately and together.

When I share that we plan for the erotic, it often surprises people. But doesn’t it feel forced? Doesn’t it kill the mood?

Our experience has been quite the contrary.

What we plan for, we prioritize. What we prioritize, we continuously practice.

Research supports this too. Dr. Emily Nagoski has found that couples with lasting sexual connection share three characteristics:

1. They are friends who trust and admire each other. This includes showing affection, facing difficult feelings with kindness, and knowing that you are there for each other.

2. They prioritize sex. They decide that sex matters for their relationship and are willing to protect time, energy, and context for erotic connection. This can look like scheduling, saying no to competing demands, and treating sex as part of relationship maintenance rather than an optional bonus.

3. They reject generic scripts and co-create what works for them. Instead of accepting other people’s opinions about how sex “should” look, they’re willing to experiment, step outside rigid gender roles, and continually update their sexual dynamic as life and bodies change.

Foreplay begins when the last time you had sex ends. How you treat each other daily determines when—and how connected—your next sexual experience will be.

Keep this in mind as you map out your erotic life for the year.

This framework has helped me and my husband turn the following into habits:

• Daily non-sexual, affectionate touch to reduce stress and increase our connection.

• Honest weekly conversations communication about what’s working and what needs improvement in our relationship and sex life.

• Quality time during dinners and date nights with a no-phone policy.

• Explore a new sexual activity every quarter (our latest is shibari!).

• Plan a new date night activity once per month.

• Maintain weekly connected sex—or every two weeks when work and travel demand it.

None of this happened by accident. It happened because we designed it.

And that’s exactly what I’ll guide you through now.

Step 1: Current state of the (erotic) union

Begin by assessing your sex life and relationship today. This is meant to be an honest, stream-of-consciousness journaling session where you write down what comes to mind.

Consider the following as you journal:

• Do you look forward to nurturing your sex life and relationship, or does it feel like a chore? Why is that so?

• What do you enjoy? What could be better? What is missing?

• What are the ongoing issues and disappointments you’ve learned to live with?

• What do you constantly complain about but don’t change?

• What truth regarding your intimate life would be the most difficult to reveal to someone you hold in high esteem?

• What have you wanted to tell your partner that you haven’t yet?

Now, add this reflection on last year:

Before you move forward, take a moment to look back. Your patterns from 2025 (or any recent period) hold valuable intel. This is about collecting data on how you actually operate when desire meets resistance.

• Where did you follow through on your erotic intentions in 2025?

• Where did you bail—cancel, avoid, or go numb instead of leaning in?

• What does that teach you about how you relate to commitment, pleasure, and change?

If you notice you always followed through when there was structure (a scheduled date night) but bailed when it required spontaneous vulnerability, that’s important.

If you leaned in during vacation but went cold at home, your nervous system is telling you something about safety and context. The goal is pattern recognition. These “bail points” will help you design goals in Step 3 that work with your wiring, not against it.

Step 2: What would guarantee failure?

When setting goals, investor Charlie Munger (Warren Buffett’s business partner, married 54 years to his second wife) was a big fan of the concept of inversion.

Instead of asking “How do I succeed?”, ask “What would guarantee failure?” and avoid those paths.

It’s about identifying pitfalls first, then steering clear—a defensive, risk-averse strategy that prevents “stupidity” before chasing brilliance.

In working with clients, I’ve found that people often have a hard time naming what they do want.

Research on sexual self-awareness confirms this: many struggle to articulate their desires, because they’ve rarely felt safe enough to explore them.

So in this next step, we’ll start with what you don’t want.

List what you absolutely don’t want to continue experiencing in your sex life and relationship by the end of 2026. Perhaps it’s duty sex that feels like chores, silent resentment, touch-starved months, unwinding only by watching TV together every day.

Make it as detailed and vivid as possible.

If it helps, consider what would happen if nothing changes over the next five to ten years:

• What aliveness slips away?

• What opportunities were missed?

• What did you not allow yourself to experience?

• How would your body, mood, and connection feel?

Now ask yourself:

• What identity would you have to give up to actually change?

• What self-protective thoughts are you telling yourself—”I’m just not sexual,” “We’re too busy,” “This is normal for long-term love”?

• What exactly are you protecting? And what is that protection costing you?

Research shows that naming what you're desperate to avoid is often a stronger motivator than positive fantasy alone. Step 2 clarifies the stakes by showing you exactly what you’re no longer willing to tolerate. Now, in step 3, we turn that clarity into a plan.

Step 3: Designing your 2026 erotic operating system (goals that actually happen)

By now you’ve named what hurts (current state) and what would guarantee failure (anti-vision). Now we need to orient all that energy in a direction that actually feels good.

If you could snap your fingers and be living a different erotic life at the end of this year, what does that look like?

• How often do you feel desired, relaxed, and connected?

• What does sex look and feel like on a random Tuesday?

• What kind of intimacy do you want to have with yourself, not just with a partner?

Now go back to your Step 2 inversion. Take each “I absolutely don’t want…” and flip it:

• “I don’t want duty sex” → “I want sex where we both feel genuinely turned on and present. That means: weekend mornings when we’re rested, starting with 10 minutes of kissing and sensual touch before anyone’s clothes come off, we check in verbally (’Does this feel good?’ ‘Want to keep going?’), and if one of us isn’t feeling it, we pause without guilt and reconnect another way.”

• “I don’t want to go months without touch” → “I want daily affectionate touch, without associating it with pressure to have sex.”

• “I don’t want silent resentment” → “I want a monthly ritual where we talk honestly about our sex life.”

This becomes the raw material for your goals.

Why SMART goals matter

Given that 80–90% of people don’t achieve their New Year’s resolutions, the problem is rarely a lack of desire—it’s a lack of design.

Most resolutions fail because they’re vague (”have more sex”), lack concrete timelines, aren’t measurable, or feel so ambitious they collapse under their own weight.

Without specificity, tracking, or realistic steps, good intentions evaporate by mid-February.

It’s no surprise, then, that most of us never build the systems that would actually support our erotic lives, either. We treat intimacy like it should just “happen” while we meticulously plan our careers, finances, and fitness routines.

And unmet intentions erode confidence.

Each time you set a goal and don’t follow through, you quietly question whether you’re capable of making the changes you want—or if you’re asking for too much. Over time, that doubt becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

That’s why we’re using SMART goals: Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, Time-bound.

This isn’t about rigidity. It’s about giving yourself a fair shot at actually achieving what you want.

Examples of erotic goals for 2026

You’re not copying these word-for-word; you’re using them as inspiration. Notice how each one is concrete and trackable:

Connection & Touch

• “By March 31, my partner and I will have a 10-minute, screens-off cuddle or massage ritual at least 3 nights a week.”

• “I will initiate some form of affectionate touch (hug, kiss, hand on thigh) once a day for the next 30 days to rebuild physical familiarity.”

Conversations About Sex

• “Once a month in 2026, we will have a 30-minute ‘state of our sex life’ check-in using 3 prompts: what’s working, what’s not, what we’d like to try next.”

• “By the end of January, I will have purchased a tool to help us talk about sex more easily—like an intimacy card deck—and we’ll use it during one date night per month to spark honest, playful conversations we might otherwise avoid.”

• “By April, I will have brought up one vulnerable desire or boundary in conversation that I’ve never voiced before.”

Partnered Novelty & Exploration

• “By February 28, I will have researched and booked a private shibari class for us, ordered beginner-friendly rope, and scheduled a date to practice what we learn.”

• “Once per quarter in 2026, we will try one new erotic experience together—this could be a workshop (tantra, kink intro, couples massage), a new location (hotel staycation, outdoors), a fantasy we role-play, or introducing a toy or practice we’ve been curious about.”

• “By June 30, I will have introduced one element of novelty into our routine that breaks our usual script—different room, different time of day, a sensory experiment (blindfold, ice, feather), or swapping who initiates.”

Solo Erotic Relationship

• “I will schedule one solo pleasure date (self-touch, fantasy exploration, reading erotica, or mindful body time) twice a month for the next 6 months to get to know my own desire.”

• “I will experiment with one new practice (erotic breathwork, mindfulness workshop, a new toy, or reading an erotic novel) per quarter.”

Body & Nervous System

• “I will practice 5 minutes of body-based mindfulness or breathwork before bed 3 nights a week for the next 8 weeks to help my nervous system down-shift into receptivity.”

• “By September, I will have booked at least one appointment (pelvic floor PT, hormone eval, or sex therapy consult) to address any ongoing pain or medical concerns.”

Turning goals into systems (maintenance, not miracles)

Intelligence isn’t just having the right goals—it’s building the feedback loops that help you actually achieve them. Think of these as your erotic “maintenance habits” that keep the system running and let you adjust as you go.

1. Put it in your existing system

Don’t overcomplicate this. Add your erotic goals and their deadlines to whatever system you already use—Google Calendar, a physical planner, your phone reminders, a wall calendar in your bedroom.

If it’s not integrated into your life, it won’t happen.

Treat these commitments the same way you’d treat a work deadline or a doctor’s appointment.

• Block time for your monthly check-in conversation.

• Set a quarterly reminder to plan your next novelty experiment.

• Schedule your solo pleasure dates like you would a workout or coffee with a friend.

The goal is to make it easy to follow through, not to add another app or system you’ll abandon by February.

2. Weekly system check

Once a week (Sunday evening works well for many people), spend 5–10 minutes reviewing your erotic patterns. Grab your journal and ask:

• When did I feel most alive erotically this week? Most dead?

• What did I do out of identity protection (people-pleasing, faking orgasms, avoiding touch, shutting down) rather than genuine desire?

• When did I feel closest to my partner (or myself)? When did I pull away?

• Is there something my partner asked me to do that I haven’t yet, or am avoiding? (This is the mental load question—both partners need to feel like you have each other’s backs.)

This is a great way to collect data on your patterns so you can course-correct. If you notice you pull away every time your partner initiates after 10 PM, that’s intel about your energy and timing. If you felt most alive after that Saturday morning conversation over coffee, lean into more of that.

3. Daily or weekly micro-practices

If you feel called to it, you can add one or two of these prompts to your existing daily routine—morning coffee, evening wind-down, whenever you already pause to reflect:

Daily micro-reflection:

• Ask yourself: “What would make me feel 5% more connected to myself or my partner today?”

• Write one thing, then actually do it.

Evening data point:

• “When did I feel closest to my partner (or myself) today?”

• “When did I pull away?”

Mental load check-in:

• “Is there something they asked me to do that I haven’t yet, or am avoiding?”

The intelligence of getting what you want

You already do this for your business, your health, your finances. You track metrics, review what’s working, adjust what’s not. You course-correct when you’re off-track. You celebrate when you hit milestones.

Your erotic life deserves the same level of care and intelligence.

The difference between people who get what they want out of life and people who stay stuck isn’t talent, luck, or even desire—it’s the willingness to pay attention, collect feedback, and make small adjustments along the way.

Your sex life is a living system, not a fixed state. It needs tending, tracking, and honest reflection to thrive.

When you treat your intimacy with the same seriousness you bring to other parts of your life—not as an afterthought, not as something that should “just happen,” but as a practice you actively steward—you stop leaving your pleasure and connection to chance. You start building the erotic life you actually want.

If you want help making this real

If this guide lit something up in you—if part of you is tired of staying in the “wrong movie” erotically and wants support turning this into an actual, lived-in reality—I can help.

Book a one-off clarity call with me to map your erotic operating system, identify your biggest pain points, and leave with 2–3 concrete, personalized goals for 2026.

Book a Clarity Call

Or, if you’re ready for deeper transformation, apply for my 3-month coaching container, where we’ll work closely to:

• Clarify what you want from your sex life and relationship—and create a roadmap to get there.

• Build the communication skills and rituals that make intimacy feel sustainable, not stressful.

• Work through the nervous-system blocks, mismatched libidos, and relational patterns that keep you stuck.

I have two openings right now. If you’re ready for change, I’d love to help.

Apply for Coaching

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Long before becoming a sexologist, conversation was my first fieldwork. I was the one at dinner who somehow got everyone talking about sex, desire, and the quiet negotiations happening in their relationships.

I’ve been fascinated by how layered our erotic lives are for as long as I can remember.

When I read All of This, Rebecca Woolf’s memoir about marriage, motherhood, infidelity, and death, I was instantly hooked. Raw stories like hers are usually shared behind closed doors, not published for strangers.

Few people are willing to write from that much truth.

As Esther Perel reminds us, “If we were fantasizing on a bed of roses, we wouldn’t be having such interesting talks about this.” It’s in the mess—the ambivalence, the betrayal, the desire that refuses to die—that we recognize ourselves and feel less alone.

So of course, I had to interview .

Rebecca is one of my favorite writers, first contributing to the Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul series in the 1990s and later publishing her personal blog Girl’s Gone Child, which chronicled early motherhood, marriage, and family life in Los Angeles. Besides her book All of This, she hosted a limited podcast series called No Shame (I binged it) and writes the braid–one of my favorite Substacks.

Without further ado, our interview.

Natassia: Let’s start at the beginning. You were raised in suburban San Diego in the 80s and 90s. What were the key messages you received about sex and sexuality?

Rebecca: I grew up in Encinitas, which was basically ground zero for surf and skate culture. Kelly Slater, Rob Machado, Tony Hawk—those were the guys being propped up as the cultural leads, and the way you had power as a girl was by orbiting boys. So, my entire adolescence was as a groupie who was there to prop them up or give them emotional or sexual support whenever they needed.

I got a job at a local skate shop and learned how to set up a skateboard, but was not allowed to ride one.

I remember my parents got me a skateboard when I was maybe 10 or 11. I lived on this cul-de-sac full of boys and they took my skateboard, broke it in front of me and said, “You can’t ride this,” and me internalizing, “Okay, I guess my role is to sit on the curb, cheer you on, and be sexually available when you want me.”

I learned that I could rise in the ranks by being the “best pro-ho,” the cool girl who set up their skateboards, slept with them, and didn’t ask for anything.

Natassia: How did your parents talk to you about sex?

Rebecca: My mom was super sex-positive. In my early teens, she offered to get me a vibrator. She knew that I was sexually active pretty early and never made me feel bad about it, never shamed me for anything I wore or anything I did.

The big script then—and I think still, for a lot of mothers and daughters—was, “Wait until you love someone before you have sex with them.” Which is, to me, the worst possible advice, because when you’re a teenage girl you fall in love with literally everybody.

So I’ve flipped the script with my kids. I tell them, “You’re ready to have sex when you’re sexually mature enough to advocate for your desire and for yourself.”

Natassia: I love that. I remember that you also gave your daughters vibrators and gave your son the book Becoming Cliterate.

Rebecca: It’s so funny, too, because I gave it to him thinking he’d be like, “Ugh, Mom” and he was like, “Oh, thanks.” And later he really thanked me for it.

I’ve always had age-appropriate sex positive books in the back pockets of our minivan, so anyone could take a gander. And we talked about it all the time.

My whole thing with consent, which I’ve been talking to my kids about since they were little, is you never put your pleasure after another person’s comfort. Not only in sexual situations, but in general.

Because I write about sex, I have boxes of vibrators in my closet of all shapes and sizes. So I gave all of my daughters vibrators, and initially they said, “Ew, gross, Mom.”

I told them they could use it, or not. They could put it away for later. I just wanted them to have access. Now, my older daughter is the one whose friends come to her asking if I can get them vibrators.

I’m honored to be the auntie who’s there for all the girls. They know that they can call me if they really need anything that has to do with their sexual health.

When I’m driving my daughter and her friends to parties, they know they can ask and have these conversations in confidence. It’s my favorite place to talk about sex with teenagers because you’re not sitting them down and making eye contact with them.

It’s a lot easier to talk casually about sex when you’re driving and everyone’s looking in the same direction and not at each other.

Natassia: My mom was also very open about sex. We had a line of communication where I felt safe asking her questions. She also taught me about consent. So, I am very thankful for that and I think it’s fantastic that you do the same for your kids.

Rebecca: I was actually just having this conversation. There’s this pink tax of raising teenage daughters and how different it is to put my daughter on public transportation than it was for my son.

I have been thinking so much about it, because she no longer takes the bus after this guy tried to assault her and then chase her.

I did not have to deal with this with my son. So now I spend four more hours in the car to get her to school and back, because I can’t put her on public transportation.

I’ve had to have these conversations with my girls, especially living in a city like LA, where I want them to be free, roam around and have a social life. But there’s this frustration about being in a world where it’s not enough to equip them with all the knowledge: understanding consent, advocating for their desires and being strong. Because they have to deal with people who don’t know these things.

I was weighing in on a question of splitting the bill on a date. Someone else said that if you want equality, you should split the bill. And I think absolutely not. You don’t get to split the bill until we close the pay gap and until my daughters can get on the bus and ride safely.

We’re risking our lives to meet you for a drink, the least you can do is pay for it.

Natassia: You’ve shared that some of your early sexual experiences were non-consensual. How did that shape your relationship to sex in your teens and early twenties?​

Rebecca: I’ve always been an extremely sexual person. I learned to get myself off very young, so my sexuality did not come from a partner introducing me to my body; I already knew what felt good.

The problem was that my early partnered sexual experiences were non-consensual. So I swung hard in the other direction. I became the girl who pursued sex, who walked up to men and told them I wanted to sleep with them. It felt like reclaiming power.

My late teens and early twenties were me sleeping with everybody, basically. I went from being the girl who fell in love with everyone to being the girl who felt nothing during sex.

My emotional and sexual selves became totally separate. I got a lot of power from casual sex, but it was performative power. It wasn’t about my pleasure; it was about being “good in bed,” about how turned on they were.

I thought I was the one in control, but in retrospect I see that a lot of that was still about external validation, not internal satisfaction.

Natassia: You married Hal at 23 when you got pregnant, and you’ve written about non-consent showing up in that relationship too. How did your dynamic with him evolve, especially once you became a mother?

Rebecca: When we met, our relationship was super sexually charged.

I was still in that mode of wooing men by taking care of them—having sex with them, cooking for them, listening to them, asking them endless questions, not needing anything back.

I married the kind of guy I’d been fucking for ten years: someone who loved being loved by me, who was very comfortable being taken care of.

Then I had a baby and everything flipped.

I suddenly had an actual child, and I did not want to mother a grown man anymore. I didn’t want to serve men or center their desire. I wanted to be in my own body, in relationships where someone asked me questions, cared about me, wanted to take care of me because I was already taking care of someone else.

That was the beginning of the end of our marriage, even though we stayed together 13 more years.

Natassia: You’ve been incredibly honest about having affairs through most of the marriage. How do you understand that now?

Rebecca: I started cheating on him within the first year. It sounds wild, but those affairs were where I actually learned what I wanted sexually. I did not feel safe in my marriage advocating for my desire because our foundation was my service to him.

With lovers, there were no stakes. I could say what I wanted and not worry about hurting their feelings or making them angry.​

I was scared of Hal from the beginning. I was drawn to men who scared me, who were dominant and powerful in that old groupie dynamic. That’s not who you want to be married to when you actually need reciprocity and care.

So I felt very justified in my affairs. I was able to escape a marriage that I did not feel safe in, learn what I wanted sexually and also recognize that monogamy never came naturally to me.

Natassia: What else did you learn from these affairs? What did they bring out in you?

Rebecca: It’s interesting because there was one that lasted the longest. It was mainly long distance because he lived in New York.

We saw each other sporadically, but it was for the most part really about longing because we would write each other these letters. There’s probably thousands of emails over the years because we would send each other emails back and forth and so much of it was writing about fantasies.

He’s a writer too and I realized that I had never had that kind of relationship or connection with someone who was also a writer. So we had this whole language and I think through that relationship I was able to articulate fantasies, desires, things with him that I’d never articulated before.

It was almost like we were prompting each other to dig deeper into this fantasy world with each other, which is the thing about affairs. It’s all fantasy, right? The majority of people you have an affair with, you’re not going to have a relationship with. They only work in the periphery of your life.

So I went searching into this part of my sexual psyche that I’d never had before. And because of that, we got really, really close sharing intimate fantasies.

My husband never would. It just wasn’t him. It wasn’t us. It opened me up to this whole other world which I knew I wanted to pursue. After he died, I did. I pursued it.

I wanted to have sex with women. I wanted to have threesomes. I wanted to have an open relationship where we were both having sex with other people and then talking about it, and then having sex with each other and talking about it.

And then there would be these times where he’d be having sex with me, and I’d be on the phone with some other girl he had sex with describing it to her.

We had this really fun, wild sex life that felt so safe with him. This is the first boyfriend who I wrote about in my book.

It was the same thing for him. He had never had a relationship like that either. He had just come out of a 20-year marriage. He’d only been with a handful of people.

I was able to be in a partnership with someone, not cheat on them, and be totally open about everything I was feeling for him and other people. So, it really was, and it still, by the way, to this day is the only relationship I’ve ever had where I felt like those two parts of myself were able to exist together.

It was super healing for me, especially post marriage. I will forever sing his praises and be so grateful to him for that.

Natassia: How does your sexuality feel now, in your mid-forties, compared to those early years?

Rebecca: I’m 44 and have always had an abnormally high sex drive. People keep saying, “Oh just wait, you’re going to reach a certain age…” [where your sex drive will decline] but I’m not there yet.

I feel way more sexually embodied the older I get. I feel fearless, super open.

In the past, I have mainly gravitated towards men 10 to 20 years older than me. I realized in the last few years that I need to start going in the other direction, because they can’t keep up. It’s not even necessarily an issue about getting hard. It’s a stamina thing.

They don’t want sex as much as I do. It makes me feel needy or desperate to ask for sex, you know what I mean?

I want to be in an equitable relationship with someone who’s at my level and I think, sexually, women in our 40s and men in their late 20s, early 30s are probably more aligned.

I have a lot of friends, a lot of women in their 40s and 50s and 60s, by the way, who are sleeping with men in their 20s and 30s. It’s hot. The power dynamics are interesting. Younger men are far more open to everything.

I realized maybe a couple years back that I’d never been with someone younger than me ever. Not even my own age. And what was it about that power dynamic that was attractive to me and what did that mean actually?

A lot of it came from feeling like I wanted someone to overpower me.

And what I’ve learned about myself in the last few years is that it’s actually fun to play with that power dynamic of being the older woman and having more experience. What does that look like? What does that feel like?

Especially because I write about this, I want to understand not only my own sexuality, but also the spectrum of sexualities.

If you want to dive deeper into Rebecca’s journey, I highly recommend reading All of This and subscribing to her substack the braid.

And if you know someone who’d enjoy this conversation, please pass it along.

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As we head into the last week of 2025, I want to thank you for reading Lust in Translation and for trusting me with your stories, questions, and curiosity. I’ll be taking a short publishing break over the next two weeks, and I’m already excited about what’s in store for us next year.

In the meantime, I wanted to share an article I wrote last week for my favorite vulvovaginal health brand, Momotaro Apotheca: “How to Stay Connected with Your Partner During the Holidays.” Even though it’s framed around the holidays, it’s a grounding little guide you can return to anytime life gets hectic and connection starts to slip to the bottom of the list.

Lastly, if you’ve had your eye on my Intimacy Card Deck, this is the final week to grab it at 25% off—a gift designed to help couples see each other in a new light, ask better questions, and spice things up with less pressure. As Shane O. shared in a recent 5-star review, “These cards rekindled the flame between my beloved and I.”

If that’s the energy you’re calling in for the new year, you can shop the deck here.

Wishing you a restful week ahead—Happy Holidays!

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In a study of the 50 most viewed videos on the largest adult film platform P***hub, only 18% of women climaxed versus 78% of men.

Of those who climaxed, 45% did so through vaginal penetration and 35% through anal penetration.

In real life, only about 4% of women reliably orgasm from vaginal penetration alone. And when it comes to backdoor play, roughly 72% of women report feeling pain the last time they did this act.

Reading that study, it’s hard to miss the gap between what we see onscreen and what we actually feel in our bodies. It’s like someone wrote a script for our desire without ever asking us what turns us on.

It’s no secret that mainstream adult films are known for creating unrealistic and often harmful expectations of how sex “should” work.

I first came across this particular study through Dr. Laurie Mintz, a renowned sexologist who often says that learning about sex through adult films is like learning how to drive by watching Fast and Furious.

As women, we tend to have strong opinions about adult films.

We notice the aggressive pounding, the flimsy (or nonexistent) plot lines, the unrealistic bodies and genitals, and the impact all of this has on our partners’ expectations and our own self-confidence.

How different it would be if these films looked and felt more like the sex we actually enjoy — slower, more attentive, more curious about women’s bodies.

It’s therefore not uncommon for straight women to enjoy lesbian adult films and quietly wonder, “Is this normal?”

Spoiler alert: it is.

Often, it’s precisely because those films center women’s pleasure, even if the portrayal doesn’t always reflect how lesbian sex actually goes down.

It doesn’t mean you’re questioning your sexuality; it just means you enjoy seeing pleasure that mirrors how you actually get off.

Something else I hear a lot from women is how they try to watch adult films with their male partners but can’t fully get into it because what happens on screen just doesn’t do it for them.

The question that follows is almost always the same:

“Are there any tasteful adult films you recommend? You know, ones I’d actually like?”

That question sent me down a rabbit hole.

I didn’t want “less bad” adult films; I wanted something that felt mutual, ethical, and genuinely hot — something made with women’s arousal in mind.

That’s how I landed on ERIKALUST, the platform created by Erika Lust, a producer who got so tired of adult films made solely for the male gaze that she started creating her own.

The performers have realistic bodies and genitals, like yours and mine. They’re ethically paid, and consent and safety are taken seriously on set.

There are actual story lines, emotional build-up, and sex that looks like something you might realistically want to have — all shot through the female gaze.

Many of us don’t just want something explicit; we want something that turns us on and makes us feel respected and seen. That’s the sweet spot ERIKALUST plays in: erotic, ethical, and human.

If you’re curious to explore what ERIKALUST has to offer, I managed to snag a 50% off code for you: NAT50.

Think of it as an invitation to see what adult films can look like when women’s pleasure is the main character.

When you think about your own experiences with adult films, where did you most recognize yourself in what I shared? How have they shaped (or misshaped) your expectations around pleasure?

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As we slow down this week for the Thanksgiving holiday, I wanted to keep this edition light. Here are 5 things I’ve watched or read this week that I find worth your while. Enjoy!

1. Beyond “Low Desire”: What Women Really Need

If you caught my interview with on midlife erotic awakenings, you know I’m deep in the weeds of women’s pleasure and desire. Last week, Juliette actually turned the tables and interviewed me for her own newsletter. Here’s a snippet:

Juliette: If you could distill your entire practice into one guiding principle, what would it be?

Me: When women reclaim their sexuality as their own, and not as a performance, everything shifts.

Feeling comfortable in your own skin creates the kind of confidence of communication, a sense of self and self worth that impacts how you show up not only for yourself, but for your partner, your kids, your community, and your work.

I always joke that communication in the bedroom translates into better communication in the boardroom. It’s about women overcoming that sense of shame or guilt or dismissal that they have about their own pleasure and what they deserve.

Continue reading the interview here.

2. Kinsey, the 2004 movie

I finally watched the movie about Alfred Kinsey–the sex researcher who founded the Kinsey Institute at Indiana University in the 1940s.

If sex research and education is controversial today, imagine back then. Alfred was courageous, and some would argue, downright mad.

I loved this movie, particularly for its hard-hitting reality that funding for my field is hard to come by. Today, the Kinsey Institute is yet again at risk of closing its doors due to a 2023 law passed by the state of Indiana. I have heard their archives are incredible and its on my bucket list to visit one day.

Here’s the movie’s IMDB and you can rent it on Amazon Prime.

3. The best-kept secret of peri/menopause relief

Speaking of the Kinsey Institute, it recently surveyed 1,200 women, ages 40-65, on the most effective strategies for managing perimenopause and menopause.

The usual standbys like exercise and diet showed up.

But self-pleasure, while only used by 14%, turned out to be one of the most effective relief strategies for symptoms like mood swings and sleep issues.

It scored 4.35 out of 5—higher than hormone therapy, higher than the gym.

Nearly half said masturbation improved at least one symptom, and younger perimenopausal women were far more open to it than the previous generation (which is fantastic news).

Here’s the kicker: only 7% of women heard about this from their doctor.

Once again, communication (or the lack of it) is the real silent epidemic. Imagine what would shift if doctors prescribed orgasms along with omega-3s?

Read the full article on mindbodygreen here.

4. Do kink encounters have to count as cheating?

The New York Times’ ethics column recently featured a letter from someone in a long-term, monogamous, same-sex relationship who discovered kink 18 months ago.

Their partner’s libido faded nine years back, and any efforts to “meet halfway” have only worked temporarily.

So here’s the question: If the kink in question doesn’t involve genital touch and simply isn’t a shared interest, is it a violation to explore it outside the relationship?

What counts as cheating is not universal—it’s entirely up to the people involved.

That’s why infidelity rates are all over the place. There’s no standard-issue definition (I’ve written about this before), and people aren’t always straight about where their lines are.

The only real solution is a renegotiation of your relationship’s contract. What agreements do you want to put in place? What boundaries are needed to bridge the gap?

Longevity in a relationship means you’ll revisit and revise these rules as life (and libido) changes. Sometimes sex is at the center, sometimes it isn’t, and sometimes these negotiations are unspoken—but they’re always happening.

There’s a saying in Portuguese: o combinado não sai caro. It translates as “what is agreed upon is not expensive.”

Yes, these conversations can be tough, but they’re also liberating—and critical for staying connected.

Read the NYT column here.

5. At the intersection of eroticism, art and fashion

—the fashion designer and great-granddaughter of Sigmund Freud—has a podcast called Fashion Neurosis that’s as much a visual feast as it is an intellectual one.

She recently interviewed Marina Abramovic, who at nearly 80, is still redefining what it means to be bold and alive.

You might know Marina for her legendary performances—like Seedbed, where, for eight hours straight, she hid beneath the Guggenheim’s stairway, pleasuring herself and broadcasting it all through a microphone to the crowd above.

Her interview with Bella is one of the most erotic and inspiring I’ve ever listened to.

Marina, with unwavering candor, shared:

“You know good food and making love are really unbelievable settling, simple things in life. It’s so difficult, people don’t make love these days anymore.

To me sex is extremely important, always been.

And you know, when I mean my age and people talking about they stop having sex in their 50s already, I could not believe how much waste.

Because feeling orgasm is such an important moment.

You feel life, you feel connected to nature, with birds, with the rocks, with the trees. Just everything becomes luminous and beautiful. So with people discovering that more, there will be much less shit as it is now.”

Marina’s words are my own.

The feeling of aliveness that comes from giving yourself good sex—whether alone or partnered—and enjoying pleasure is a beautiful source of energy and longevity I wish more women would revel in.

Watch the interview on Youtube here.

In case you missed it:

If you enjoyed this, the best compliment would be to share with others.

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For those who celebrate, I wish you a lovely Thanksgiving!

Thank you for reading, and until next week.

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If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a sexologist, it’s that people don’t give themselves enough permission to revel in pleasure. That’s why I love gifting my loved ones a reminder to slow down and be present, especially during the holidays.

As you can imagine, this guide isn’t about the typical presents—it’s a curated celebration of intimacy, sensuality, and ritual.

Whether you’re treating yourself, a lover, or a friend, each pick elevates the everyday into something delightfully decadent.

Erotica: Literary Seduction for Every Imagination

Aurore Literary Erotica Annual Subscription ($69)

Your largest sexual organ is your brain, and Aurore is where I send it exploring.

Within its digital library are over 300 erotic stories—crafted for every fantasy, mood, or curiosity. Some are soft and intimate, others raw and boundary-expanding.

Gifting Aurore is a subtle way to invite someone to explore their desires in luxe privacy.

Perk: 10% off with code NATASSIA

Psychedelic Sex, Taschen ($111)

A vibrant coffee table book that captures the delirious fusion of the sexual revolution and psychedelic art between 1967–1972. It’s the epitome of California’s hippie culture—where free love, mind-bending visuals, and cheeky magazine spreads defined an era.

Perfect for anyone who adores retro flair and wants a splash of playful history in their living room.

Jonvelle: The 100 Best Photographs ($279)

This stunning volume of French photographer Jean-François Jonvelle is a visual love letter to women in all their grace, charm, and intimate allure. Each frame is infused with his belief that beauty flourishes where confidence and comfort meet. This is the book you open to celebrate the simple magic of feeling seen and desired.

Temperature Play: Massage Candles

Temperature play transforms touch into a full-body, sensual experience. The gentle warmth of melted massage oil not only relaxes muscles, but heightens sensitivity—inviting partners to be present, playful and connected.

There are two massage candles I love at different price points:

maude burn no. 0 ($32)

Unscented and formulated with skin-softening jojoba and soybean oils. Make sure to blow out the wick once the candle has melted, before massaging it onto the skin.

Perk: 15% off with code NATASSIA

Kiki de Montparnasse Massage Oil Candle Lavender No. 5 ($75)

A reminder of summer in Provence, this luxe candle is made with natural soybean and coconut oils.

Communication is Lubrication: Intimacy Cards

Wonderlust Mindful Intimacy Card Deck (20% off for $36)

Turn each other on, one prompt at a time. This card deck has two levels of 69 cards each that makes it fun and easy to spark new conversations and rediscover each other, no matter how long you’ve been together.

Pair them with a glass of wine and set aside an evening—wherever the questions lead, you’ll end up closer, more aware, and more adventurous.

“I got this card deck as an anniversary gift for my husband and I. We absolutely love it - great for foreplay ;)” — Maisey L.d.V.

Intimate Devices: For Every Kind of Pleasure

For those beginning to explore the world of pleasure—or who crave thoughtfully designed toys without the intimidation factor—maude offers entry-level favorites that blend simplicity, elegance, and delight.

These pieces are accessibly priced, modern, and made to invite curiosity in the most approachable way.

maude vibe ($52)

Understated, quiet, and artfully designed, the vibe offers three speeds for clitoral stimulation, but I find the gentlest setting is most effective.

Small enough for travel, bold enough to display—this is the perfect beginner’s piece or a classic for anyone who prefers simplicity with sophistication.

Perk: 15% off with code NATASSIA

maude dome ($35)

A multi-textured sleeve that’s all about control. Dome’s double-sided design features soft, stretchable silicone interiors with distinct ridged and beaded textures: one side for building, one for teasing.

Whether you’re flying solo or handing it off to a partner, dome lets you set the rhythm, the tightness, and the vibe, making every session completely personal.

Perk: 15% off with code NATASSIA

maude band ($52)

Uncomplicated pleasure, designed for two. The band is a soft, platinum-grade silicone vibrating ring that slides on with ease, offering steady, focused stimulation exactly where it’s needed most.

With its subtle look and foolproof fit, it’s one of the least intimidating ways to bring vibration into partnered play—a true invitation to shared sensation.

Perk: 15% off with code NATASSIA

LELO Sila Cruise ($149.50)

Unlike traditional vibrators, the Sila Cruise uses gentle sonic waves—no buzzing or vibration here—to coax pleasure through softness. Its sculptural silicone contours invite slow, sensual exploration, building sensation with patience rather than urgency.

As the waves intensify, the crescendo is unexpectedly powerful, making it a memorable favorite I’ve gifted time and again.

LELO Hugo 2 Remote ($160)

Designed for deep, hands-free prostate pleasure, HUGO 2 boasts dual motors, ergonomic contours, and a wireless remote that lets you control vibrations with the flick of a wrist.

Luxurious, powerful, and sculpted for all anatomies—it transforms solo or partnered play into a longer, stronger, and unforgettable experience.

LELO Soraya Wave ($196.37)

The world’s most luxurious rabbit, this bestseller combines ultra-powerful vibrations for clitoral stimulation with a flexible arm that massages your G-spot in a finger-like, wave motion.

Waterproof, sculptural, and designed for simultaneous pleasure, it offers double the sensation for truly unforgettable climaxes.

Boudoir Accessories: An Invitation to Play

For the connoisseur of sensuality, no brand captures elegance and erotic artistry like Kiki de Montparnasse. Their accessories don’t just complement intimate encounters—they transform them.

Each piece is meticulously crafted to invite curiosity, connection, and a heightened sense of pleasure.

Bondage Rope ($268)

Silky-soft, satisfyingly strong—an elegant invitation to surrender and explore.

Lace Veil ($198)

Sheer floral lace for moments of mystery, fantasy, and dramatic allure.

Man Ray Paddle ($178)

Iconic design meets playful power in this sculptural, statement paddle.

Handcuff Wristlets ($250)

Luxe restraints designed to captivate—equal parts seductive and sophisticated.

Vulvovaginal Care

For the past 3 years, I have been using these two Momotaro Apotheca products religiously. While they aren’t exactly sexy, vulvovaginal care is an integral part of intimacy.

No gift guide of mine would be complete without these:

Smooth & Restore Salve ($37)

This tiny jar is my healing talisman. I keep it in my purse and beside my bed for spontaneous moments of care. Post-sex? It’s my non-negotiable for UTI and yeast infection prevention, but I also dab it on burns, bug bites, and razor nicks.

It’s anti-inflammatory and antimicrobial, but most importantly, it’s gentle enough for every part of your body. Plus, a little bit goes incredibly far.

Perk: Get 25% off automatically at checkout

Nourishing Bath & Body Tonic Oil ($48)

I reach for this after every shower to massage on my vulva. It’s a blend of organic botanicals that moisturizes and soothes.

The oil instantly calms any dryness or irritation, leaving skin supple without any synthetic fragrance or residue. If you’re someone who values mindful, pH-balancing essentials, this is a game-changer.

Perk: Get 25% off automatically at checkout

Have questions about any of these picks, or want a personalized recommendation?

I love hearing from you—just hit reply and I’ll be happy to help you find what you’d like.

And if you found something intriguing—or know someone who’d enjoy this list as well—please forward this newsletter along.

Wishing you a very sensual holiday season!

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It was on a flight to Napa back in June when I first discovered ’s writing. I was immediately captivated by her vulnerability and bold, personal exploration.

Through a combination of psychedelic therapy, sexological bodywork, and other experiences she writes about, Juliette has undergone a profound sexual reawakening in midlife—one that’s ignited a new (and much richer) chapter in her 25+ year marriage.

We see so much of our own stories in others’ lives.

Naturally, I had to share hers with you.

This is the first in a new series here on Lust in Translation, where I interview people who bravely share their lived experiences with sex and love.

But first—who is Juliette?

has spent her life redesigning what’s possible in learning environments—first in classrooms, then in startups, and now in the realm of midlife reinvention.

She’s a TED Senior Fellow, former Chief Learning Architect at Bionic, founder of the nonprofit Breaker, and spent 15 years with the New York City Department of Education.

Juliette has generously shared her journey in her substack , which I highly recommend binging.

Without further ado, our interview.

Natassia: You grew up in a very Catholic household. Reflecting on your teen and early adult years, what were the key messages that you received about sexuality?

Juliette: It was very much the traditional Catholic, “don’t give it away for free.” Sex was power. You guarded it both because you did not want to be violated–which was a real threat–and because you wanted to secure a desirable partner.

You had to project a certain image and being sexually liberal would put you at risk of violation and decrease your chances of securing a sanctioned relationship–which was the goal, because of course the goal was to get married and have children.

There was no other goal.

And nobody talked about pleasure in that equation at all. It had nothing to do with it.

In fact, there was a kind of unspoken assumption that the girls who might have enjoyed some aspect of sexual relations were…slutty.

Natassia: How did these messages shape your desires and your sense of self as you stepped into adulthood?

Juliette: I feel like I did all the right things: I played by the rules, both the explicit and implicit ones.

When I think back on it, I spent a lot of energy on that stuff. Imagine what I could have otherwise been spending that creative energy on?

But I guess in the end I was successful. I felt like I had a place in the social system. I had a boyfriend who was the quarterback of the football team.

Fast forward, I fell in love with my husband who to me was this incredible person–smart, creative and fulfilling to me sexually.

I bound myself to him in this long-term relationship that became very dysfunctional over time. So although I thought I had “won” the ultimate prize–the husband, the marriage, the children–it was slowly squeezing us.

At that time, unconscious behaviors were killing us and killing the relationship. And I think for many people, it does kill it. They break and either they do their work and recreate something different in a new relationship or they recreate it all over again, right?

That’s what so many people do when they split and divorce: they repeat the same patterns.

Eventually, we split. We separated after a real crisis in our relationship. Somehow, we were able to reinvent ourselves and rediscover the relationship.

Natassia: What made your marriage become dysfunctional?

Juliette: There was something very codependent about our relationship from the very beginning where I was overgiving, overproviding. Because to give is how I receive love and become worthy of it.

That formula was wonderful in the early days, because he loved to accept all the gifts from me. I was a bottomless well of “let me do, be and serve.” And he became reliant on it.

It felt wonderful for a good long time until it didn’t.

It was clear to me that it was gonna suck me dry, especially when the children were born. I had to draw that energy away from what I had been pouring into him, into the kids because that’s what you do when you’re a mother.

And he did not like that. He did not appreciate that shift in focus and attention.

Although he’s a wonderful father and he didn’t resent his own children, I think this happens for a lot of men. There’s just a tremendous shift in focus in the family dynamics.

I wouldn’t change that because I think that there is a period of time where a mother dedicates her life force to her children first. Just feeding them your milk, producing milk and nourishing your children is a massive tax on the body, but it is absolutely one of the most important gifts that you could give them.

After that period of intensive mothering, I felt the need to work again when they started preschool. I wanted to have something that was about me and my own identity.

I pressed forward with my career and my husband continued to feel abandoned.

Things disintegrated, until my husband–who had been sober for our entire marriage, including before I met him–relapsed.

Then he spent four years going in and out of rehab, trying to get himself back on his feet.

We were in the thick of it for quite some time with two teenage kids and it was a very challenging time.

Natassia: After you and your husband separated, you write about this beautiful moment when you had an energy orgasm in the sky, after you started psychedelic therapy. Can you share a little bit more about it?

Juliette: The first phase of my recovery was peeling back these layers of armor that I had built up over the years that preceded my husband for sure, and also included the years of being with him.

It was that shedding of the skin. Then on top of being up early for a flight and that rawness that you feel when you’re traveling someplace. I got up at 4:00 a.m. and for whatever reason, I just started to feel this swelling, this movement, this heat, and I was just overcome with a feeling of raw intensity, like there was something that was trying to come out from inside.

It was pleasurable but forceful, almost like it was trying to break me open. I call it an energy orgasm because of its intensity. You are moving, things are changing. Keep going.

It started to feel like a suspended reality and my body was changing then–not to dismiss the power of hormones shifting as well.

So it’s like I’ve got these surges of hormones happening. The world is in upheaval. I’ve started this psychedelic therapy. My whole marriage and home life is rearranging itself and there are all these open questions and it just feels equally scary and welcoming.

Natassia: And was this when you started to experience your sexual expansion?

Juliette: Sexual energy became synonymous with being alive, fully alive.

When you’ve spent so much time feeling numb or angry or resentful or kind of shut down, you just want to keep nourishing a whole part of your life when you start to feel it come back online.

So the hormonal therapy started to clear some space, then the psychedelic therapies started to drop the armor. Each of these layers opened me more to the sensation of my body. I had to understand and seek out more information, because clearly something was happening.

I was feeling myself in a very different way. I kept asking people and trying to talk about it without knowing what questions to even ask. There was a restlessness with it.

It was like this force that wanted to move through me and sex was a portal, you know?

It wasn’t like meditation or pilates class was going to make me feel more alive. No. It was clear to me that sexuality had something to do with this aliveness and I needed to chase after it.

I needed to understand it. I needed to find containers that would allow me to expand into it.

And I still feel that way today. I still like expanding into new containers so that I can keep feeling this force.

My writing is one channel for that sexual energy. It’s a way of expressing and letting it unfurl into the world, into other people’s minds. It’s just energy moving.

Natassia: You moved to California during COVID, after a year of separation from your husband, because you felt it was important to be together as a family with your children. You share that at that stage, you were just friends and co-parents. At what point did that change?

Juliette: I had no interest in having sex with him. I really couldn’t even imagine being attracted to him in that way. But again, all those things are moving in me and you’re looking around like, where do I go with this?

The answer to my question initially was to work with sexological body workers. That was one container in the early days that allowed me to express myself and play, discover, and develop a new language for touch. But ultimately as my practitioner, a woman, pointed out, it’s a one way touch.

There’s a whole world of experience that I was missing because I can’t touch her back and it’s not a shared experience, so my husband–because he really did want to reconcile–was offering himself as a willing partner in these exercises.

I was very reluctant and resistant for a long time, but then ultimately I did say, “Okay, let’s try this.”

It started very, very modestly. But I was absolutely astonished.

I think we both were astonished at how the energetic charge between us shifted as we began to experiment with some of these rather kind of formal touch exercises. Not at all the kind of pleasure that you would imagine.

Natassia: Which touch exercise was it?

Juliette: One of my sexological body workers recommended a book by Dr. Betty Martin called The Wheel of Consent.

The wheel of consent has two types of dynamics and four types of experiences: allow, take, serve and accept.

One dynamic is serve and accept. You can serve the gift of touch and in that case, if I’m serving, the other person is accepting. Then it switches: I accept when the other person is serving.

The other dynamic is allow and take. That’s when one person allows their partner to take the gift of touch.

They all feel quite different and it’s very hard to explain in words how different they are until you practice it.

For people in long-term relationships, you get so into your patterns and your kind of predictable routines with sex.

This is a wonderful way to change the scripts, because it’s turn-taking.

We started with a timer because it felt safer. His service to me was touching my feet for five minutes. So initially it was very, very tame.

Over time, you take greater and greater risks. Asking for what you want is hard for a lot of people to do. Not just to ask for what you want, but then to be seen and felt experiencing and accepting that gift of touch.

And then on the other side, to ask to take something from someone else for your pleasure and have them allow it and have them see you in your “taking” energy is a whole other experience that is quite unique.

So there’s a lot of room to play.

There’s a tremendous amount of imagination and there’s a relational dance that begins to shift when you take turns. So I think it’s great practice.

It has taught me so much. It’s allowed us to revive our sexuality and, quite frankly, it saved our marriage.

Natassia: That’s so beautiful. I love the wheel of consent. It can be very jarring in the beginning to think about what you want and ask for it. When did you start exploring sexual touch in the wheel of consent?

Juliette: It didn’t take long for me to recognize that I was seeing him differently.

I want to preface this by saying that after that period of spiraling through relapses, my husband had to build himself up again and did so through the 12 steps, which are such a deep practice of humility and building of integrity.

As I was watching him do that for himself, with himself, separate from me, I could observe from a distance the way his core self was changing.

And then we started to relate to each other again physically. So these things were coming together in a symbiotic way. In other words, when I saw him in his “take” energy, it was a different perspective on him than I’d ever seen.

It wouldn’t have been possible without the foundational piece of the 12 steps that he was standing on, which I had honestly never seen in all of the years of us being together.

Natassia: That makes sense.

Juliette: He was just in a totally different place in his life, as was I. So, we’d gone off and done these separate journeys of development, and we were finding a way to relate to each other again.

I have this particular memory playing the wheel of consent: it was his turn to take, and he had this stance. It was literally just in his posture. The way he stood in space and didn’t need to perform, didn’t need to grasp. It was just the power of his energy in that stance.

I also have a memory of him using his power in a sexual dynamic. He just said, “Wait.”

That one command is incredibly charged.

It’s indicative of both where he had come from in his journey, and also the strength of these exercises to change the dance steps that we’ve been trapped in for decades.

Natassia: Oh, that’s so hot. It’s the building of anticipation, the slowing down. And that is what I feel like so many couples are missing in their process of relating to each other sexually.

Juliette: Yeah. It doesn’t have to be toys and scenes and some kind of high drama. It can be as simple as “wait.”

Natassia: In this “new” marriage, have you then maintained a level of individuality that has allowed you to coexist better?

Juliette: Yes, that’s the amazing thing. You can recover from codependency. In fact, we are better differentiated and feel more foundationally sound than we ever have been.

We talk about it all the time, like how the hell did we make it through? Thank God we did, because we are truly best friends.

We have such a lovely family and feel so nourished by the friendship and the foundation that underlines us, as well as being able to have this sexual relationship that we never had when we were younger. Even though it was, you know, the height of passion and romance and all that, it’s like, no, it’s actually better now.

Natassia: How else do you stay erotically connected in your daily life?

Juliette: It’s all energy. Sex is energy. Art, culture, relationships, politics, it’s all energy. So it’s about what energy I am paying attention to that is going to expand me.

Part of cultivating my sexual energy is attuning myself to nature, to fine art, to music, all the cliches, all the things that people have been saying forever, I feel the truth of.

And I think that’s part of the gift of midlife: all the things that are patently obvious and truisms that have existed since the beginning of time, you actually understand.

You’re like, “Oh, this is what they mean.” So I have deepened my pleasure practice by attuning to music in a way where I just let it move through me almost like an orgasm.

Certain music will just captivate me and turn me on in every part of my body.

Natassia: I love that. I too practice that almost daily.

Juliette: Yeah, I can tell.

Natassia: Thank you so much, Juliette. You are radiant.

Juliette: My pleasure.

Did this interview resonate with you, or spark any questions? Drop a comment below—we’d love to hear your thoughts.

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Between 8 to 10 percent of Americans are currently taking GLP-1 medications like Ozempic and Mounjaro, with another 30 to 35 percent interested in trying them, according to a 2024 PwC study.

While we’ve heard plenty about the medical benefits—improved insulin production, blood sugar regulation, significant weight loss for conditions ranging from diabetes to fatty liver disease—there’s a quieter revolution happening in bedrooms across the country.

Earlier this year, The New York Times profiled Jean and Javier, married for 15 years, whose relationship fundamentally shifted after Jean started taking Zepbound for fatty liver disease.

After losing 60 pounds, something more profound changed: Jean, a self-described people pleaser, found her “no”.

She stopped drinking, leaving early from the weekly, booze-filled game night with friends that used to run until 1 AM. She established boundaries with her husband, extended family and colleagues.

And perhaps most significantly, she stopped having sex.

“She hasn’t wanted to have sex for at least five years, she told me, but until last March, she complied,” reports the NYT.

“I felt like it was my responsibility, and I wanted to solve this problem,” said Jeanne in the interview.

While the rest of the article speculated about the impact of GLP-1s on sexual desire, it failed to expand on this important data point.

Zepbound didn’t kill her desire; it gave her permission to finally be honest about its absence and say no to her husband.

When sex becomes another job

This reminded me of the Fifth Shift, a term coined by writer that I recently learned about in her latest podcast episode.

Building on Dr. Arlie Russell Hochschild’s Second Shift—the unpaid caregiving and domestic labor women shoulder after their paid workday ends—Montei traces the evolution through:

• the Third Shift (emotional and social labor),

• the Fourth Shift (night caregiving and the digital mental load of managing school apps and social calendars),

• to this Fifth frontier: the sexual labor women are expected to perform in their straight marriages.

More specifically, women are expected to educate and equip themselves, with little involvement from men, because sex is easy for them.

“Most models of sexual desire begin with men and end with women not quite measuring up,” writes Dr. Gina Ogden in her book Return of Desire.

So when desire predictably wanes under the weight of all these shifts, we’ve been trained to view ourselves through a male lens, to pathologize our own bodies and minds as somehow deficient.

I fully understand the irony of me–an intimacy coach who works with couples on overcoming sexual disconnection–writing this, but if you have ever worked with me, you know that division of labor and mental load is a core part of my coaching.

Without tending to this, I know the rest won’t progress.

This also raises a longer and more tender conversation on what to do when one or both of you have changed, and even about monogamy itself. But that’s not what today’s writing is about.

Which brings me to my next point:

The impact of GLP-1s on sexual desire

Because GLP-1s work by modulating impulse control and pleasure-seeking behaviors (which is why they’re so effective for weight loss), they can dampen other pleasure centers too.

Jackie Giannelli, a New York City-based nurse practitioner specializing in longevity, GLP-1s, and hormones, has found some of her clients to be experiencing “anhedonia” or “flattening”—a loss of pleasure, motivation, and vitality.

Research suggests that GLP-1 receptors in brain regions associated with reward and motivation may interact with serotonin pathways, particularly the 5-HT2C receptor, which is linked to decreased sexual desire.

A 2025 study by Tveit et al. published in The Journal of Sexual Medicine proposed this serotonergic mechanism could reduce sexual desire, and social media data analysis by Arillotta et al. in 2024 found some users reporting decreased libido. However, other studies have found no evidence of negative impacts on sexual desire, making the findings decidedly mixed.

The biological picture is further complicated by what some experience as positive effects: GLP-1 agonists can increase total testosterone, improve vascular reactivity, and elevate mood—all factors that could theoretically enhance desire.

Some research even shows users reporting increased libido after weight loss and improved sexual arousal.

The reality seems to be that GLP-1s affect different people differently, and the biopsychosocial context matters enormously.

What can help navigate the changes

If you’re on a GLP-1 medication and experiencing reduced desire–and most importantly, if this reduced desire bothers you–there are practical steps worth considering.

Lowering the dose or microdosing can help. Giannelli has found that many women are simply on too high a dose.

Having other hormones optimized, including testosterone, can make a difference.

But here’s what might matter more: looking honestly at the other “shifts” in your life.

If you’re carrying a disproportionate load of household labor, childcare, emotional work, and mental planning, no amount of toys or techniques will restore desire that’s been buried under exhaustion and resentment.

Sometimes, it’s not the medication. Sometimes, it’s finally giving you the voice to say what’s been true all along.

And that’s not a side effect—that’s clarity. Where you go from there is yours to choose.

The couples who best weather these transformations, The New York Times reminds us, are those who stay flexible about “the silent expectations of coupledom.”

“They didn’t hold dinnertime as sacrosanct. They didn’t cling too tightly to preconceived ideas about frequency of sex. They could prepare a prized lasagna without feeling affronted that a formerly voracious partner only nibbles,” writes the author, Lisa Miller.

This flexibility isn’t about lowering standards or settling—it’s about recognizing that people and relationships are living, evolving systems.

When one partner changes significantly, the entire dynamic shifts, and the couples who do well are those willing to renegotiate rather than resist.

If you have taken GLP-1, or are partnered with someone who has, I would love to know how this has impacted your relationship. Feel free to share it in the comments, or hitting reply.

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If you want support on your intimacy journey, here’s how else I can help you:

1. Couples Intimacy Card Deck - Turn each other on, one question at a time. I created this deck for you and your partner to have fun talking about sex, exploring your desires and deepening your connection. Read the reviews and shop here. Get 10% off with code LUST10.

2. Private Intimacy Coaching - I work with couples to help them build a sex life and relationship they look forward to. Book your free 25-minute strategy session and learn 1-3 takeaways to improve your intimacy right away.

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Your largest sexual organ is your brain.

It’s why when we read erotica, desire doesn’t just awaken—it expands.

We begin to notice not only what turns us on, but why.

The anticipation. The slow reveal. The way a single sentence can make your pulse quicken and your breath deepen.

Research backs it up: studies show that women who regularly read erotica report higher levels of sexual arousal and satisfaction (Lehmiller, 2018).

Reading about sex becomes a mirror for the inner worlds we rarely show. It’s about the search for meaning through the body.

The way lust can collapse the distance between two people—or widen it entirely. The way we use eroticism to make sense of freedom, art, identity, and love.

Here are some of my favorite books that explore those ideas. Each one seduces not only through its sensuality but through its curiosity about what desire reveals about us.

The Lover – Marguerite Duras

Set in 1930s colonial Vietnam, this semi-autobiographical novel tells the story of a fifteen-year-old French girl who begins a passionate affair with an older Chinese lover. Their relationship defies class, race, and convention, unfolding in stolen moments and suffocating heat.

Duras writes not for shock, but for truth. How longing can both define and destroy a life. It’s an exploration of power, shame, and the hunger to be seen.

The Sexual Life of Catherine M. – Catherine Millet

Part erotic memoir, part philosophical investigation, Millet recounts her years immersed in Paris’s sexual underground — from orgies to anonymous encounters — with startling honesty and detachment.

But the book isn’t just about sex. It’s about identity, art, and the way physical experience shapes our sense of self. Her gaze is clinical and courageous, turning the body into a canvas of inquiry rather than spectacle.

Emmanuelle – Emmanuelle Arsan

In this cult classic of 1950s erotica, a young woman travels to Bangkok and finds herself initiated into a world of sensual exploration. Guided by her husband’s friends and a mysterious older woman, Emmanuelle learns to embrace her desires without guilt or restraint.

The novel moves between philosophy and pleasure, treating erotic experience as a spiritual awakening. It’s exotic, provocative, and quietly revolutionary.

A Sport and a Pastime – James Salter

Told through the eyes of an unnamed narrator, this novel chronicles a love affair between a young American student and a French shop girl in provincial France. Their relationship is observed, imagined, and mythologized by the storyteller — blurring what is real and what is fantasy.

Salter’s prose is sparse but luminous, transforming erotic encounters into meditations on memory, power, and beauty.

Kink – edited by Garth Greenwell and R.O. Kwon

This anthology brings together some of today’s most daring literary voices — including Carmen Maria Machado, Roxane Gay, and Alexander Chee — to explore sex and power through modern lenses. The stories move between tenderness and brutality, featuring queer love, role-play, taboo, and the complex politics of vulnerability.

It’s a collection that insists that kink is about truth-telling.

Written on the Body – Jeanette Winterson

A love story with no assigned gender to its narrator, this novel unravels an affair between the storyteller and a married woman. As the relationship intensifies, so does the narrator’s obsession with her body — every scar, every freckle — until love and anatomy become indistinguishable.

Winterson turns longing into language, crafting a story about desire, loss, and the impossibility of ownership.

Lust – Susan Minot

A series of short stories about young women navigating casual sex and emotional hunger in the 1980s. Minot writes in sharp, spare sentences that capture the dissonance between physical closeness and emotional distance.

Her characters move through encounters that promise connection but often leave them lonelier; a haunting look at the quiet ache of female sexuality in a world that doesn’t know how to hold it.

Couples – John Updike

Set in a well-to-do Massachusetts suburb during the 1960s, Couples follows ten couples whose lives intertwine through affairs, betrayals, and fragile marriages. It’s a portrait of postwar America’s sexual revolution — glossy on the surface, hollow underneath.

Updike examines how liberation can still carry loneliness, and how intimacy becomes both escape and prison.

The Last Nude – Ellis Avery

Inspired by real events in 1920s Paris, this novel tells the story of Rafaela, a young Italian model, and Tamara de Lempicka, the modernist painter who immortalized her in art — and in bed.

Their relationship is as creative as it is carnal, a collision of power, beauty, and jealousy. Avery’s writing is rich with color, texture, and danger. A reminder that art and desire are often two sides of the same obsession.

Want: Sexual Fantasies by Anonymous – Gillian Anderson

A mesmerizing anthology of fantasies anonymously submitted by women around the world. Anderson curated the collection — and contributed one of her own stories — to create a tapestry of voices that range from playful to dark, tender to unapologetically raw.

Want reads like a shared secret among strangers, each fantasy revealing how imagination becomes its own form of liberation.

Aurore

If you love the idea of a steady stream of sensual short stories, Aurore is my favorite online platform featuring real stories written by women. I managed to snag 10% off for you with code NATASSIA.

Now I’m curious: What are your favorite erotic reads?

Share them in the comments so we can crowdsource a living library.

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And if this list inspired you, please share it with a friend. The more we talk about desire, the less alone we are in it.

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If you’re craving more support on your own intimacy journey, here are a few ways I can help:

1. Couples Intimacy Card Deck - Turn each other on, one question at a time. I created this deck for you and your partner to have fun talking about sex, exploring your desires and deepening your connection. Read the reviews and shop here. Get 10% off with code LUST10.

2. Transform Sex From Obligation to Anticipation - My coaching helps women and couples build a sex life they look forward to. Book your free 25-minute strategy session and learn 1-3 takeaways to improve your intimacy right away.

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Holly is the primary breadwinner in her family. She has two young children, and her husband Dan, who also works, is responsible for most of the childcare. When she’s knee-deep in what she calls “miss bossy pants” mode, Dan knows that’s his cue.

In one dominant move, he clasps her arms behind her back and grips her neck with his other hand. That’s when she knows it’s time to submit. It’s their thing, something they’ve consented to, that allows her to shut her thinking brain off and get into an erotic space with him.

Every one of us has a sexual template. It’s the map of what we want and how we want it.

For some couples, like Holly and Dan, it includes power dynamics. For others, like Jaime and Pete, it looks like sharing nudes while traveling. For Taylor and Fabien, it’s a slow Sunday morning with touch and breathing exercises before anything else.

“When we better understand ourselves, we have agency and authenticity in our sexuality...and understanding ourselves makes us a better lover because we know our strengths and weaknesses, proclivities and kinks perhaps,” shared my dear supervisor and renowned sex therapist Dr. Holly Richmond (yes, the one married to Dan) at The Erotic Upgrade, an event I recently hosted in New York.

That night, Dr. Richmond and I talked about how couples can think the biggest threat to their erotic life is boredom.

But what really erodes intimacy isn’t sameness—it’s rigidity.

When sex becomes fragile—when one disappointing encounter feels like the end of the story—partners stop taking risks, stop adapting, stop being curious.

This is why Dr. Richmond calls mindful sex resilient sex.

What resilient sex really means

Resilience is the ability to bend without breaking. Darwin didn’t say survival belongs to the strongest. He said it belongs to the most adaptable.

The same is true for eroticism.

Mindful sex is what makes intimacy adaptable. It is the practice of slowing down enough to notice sensation instead of analyzing it, of placing pleasure before outcome, of holding space for the awkwardness and missed cues without labeling them failures.

When couples know that not every encounter has to be perfect, they become more willing to try again. To improvise. To laugh. To risk.

This is resilience: not avoiding difficulty, but learning to recover from it together.

The role of anxiety

But presence—the core of mindful sex—is almost impossible when anxiety takes over.

So many people tell me, “I get in my head during sex” and that’s because anxiety overrides cognition.

You can’t think your way out of it. The only way through is to return to the body.

Dr. Richmond teaches a simple sequence: awareness, understanding, behavior change.

First, notice: I’m in my head.

Then, name what’s happening: stress is hijacking my arousal.

Finally, shift into the body: focus on touch, on breath, on the most arousing act available to you.

Taylor and Fabien’s Sunday ritual is built on this. Their mornings aren’t about chasing orgasm—they’re about creating a container where their bodies can soften and anxiety doesn’t set the pace. Sometimes it leads to sex. Sometimes it doesn’t. But it always leads to connection through somatic exercises.

Desire and arousal: the bridge

Understanding the difference between desire and arousal also helps.

Desire is psychological—it asks, what do I find sexy?

Arousal is physiological—it asks, what turns my body on?

Men often experience the two simultaneously.

For many women, however, desire is responsive. It follows arousal. Which means if you wait to be in the mood before beginning, you may be waiting forever.

Mindfulness is the bridge. Beginning slowly, giving yourself permission to get curious with following what feels good, allows arousal to nudge desire awake.

Safety and risk: an erotic balance

From there, couples can explore the paradox that safety and risk aren’t opposites, but partners.

Safety is the baseline: I want to, not I will.

Risk is what creates aliveness: the vulnerability of eye gazing, the boldness of sharing a fantasy, the thrill of switching up roles you’ve been stuck in for years.

Too much safety without risk and intimacy flattens into roommate energy.

Too much risk without safety and it feels threatening, like walking a tightrope without a net.

Mindful sex balances both.

Sex worth wanting

Perhaps the sharpest truth of the night came when Dr. Richmond said: “Most women don’t have low desire. They just don’t want bad sex.”

It’s like ordering tacos and being served a burger for ten years straight. No wonder you lose your appetite!

Resilient couples give themselves permission to keep asking: What do I actually want? What turns me on now, not five years ago? They rediscover their templates again and again, knowing the answers will change.

Because sex worth wanting isn’t about frequency or performance. It’s about making intimacy feel like something you anticipate, not something you endure.

If you want to begin exploring this in your own life, start with presence.

Here are a few questions Dr. Richmond shared to get you started:

• I can practice self-awareness and presence by ___.

• My body often says ___ when I can’t verbalize my thoughts.

• Prioritizing pleasure over performance allows me to feel ___.

• My body will help me feel more present during sex if I ___.

• One way I will show myself compassion today is ___.

• If our sex life was perfect, I could ___ and my partner would feel more ___.

Let your answers surprise you. Then share them.

Because resilient sex doesn’t come from never faltering. It comes from returning to curiosity, over and over again.

PS: If you’ve experienced trauma, Dr. Richmond has written a beautiful book to help you move past it. Reclaiming Pleasure: A Sex Positive Guide for Moving Past Sexual Trauma and Living a Passionate Life is an incredible resource and you can find it here.

And if you’re craving more support on your own journey, here are a few ways I can help you explore:

1. Couples Intimacy Card Deck - Turn each other on, one question at a time. I created this deck for you and your partner to have fun talking about sex, exploring your desires and deepening your connection. Read the reviews and shop here. Get 10% off with code LUST10.

2. Transform Sex From Obligation to Anticipation - My coaching helps women and couples build a sex life they look forward to. Book your free 25-minute strategy session and learn 1-3 takeaways to improve your intimacy right away.

3. Vulva Care Essentials - For vulvovaginal health support, I love Momotaro Apotheca’s salve and tonic oil to soothe discomfort and moisturize the vulva. Their products are formulated specifically for intimate care with gentle, effective ingredients. Shop here and get 20% off automatically at checkout.

If this shifted how you think about intimacy, resilience, or what’s possible for your sex life, please share it with someone who might need to hear it.

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I’d love to hear from you: What helps you stay present when anxiety or stress shows up in the bedroom? Have you and your partner found practices that make intimacy feel more resilient? Leave a comment—your story might inspire someone else navigating the same challenges.

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Disclaimer: While I'm sharing medically accurate information about hormones, I'm not a doctor and this isn't medical advice. Always consult with healthcare providers about treatment decisions.

A few weeks ago, I published a newsletter about maintenance sex, and the comments section erupted: how dare I not mention hormones?!

And I get it. Depending on your life stage, or time of the month, they can play a role in how open you are to sex. But given that I was answering a husband’s anonymous question with limited information about his wife, I did not want to pathologize her.

So, instead of suggesting she needed to get her hormones checked, I wanted her husband to understand the foundational elements that impact desire: communication, emotional load, variety, and feeling genuinely desired rather than needed.

In fact, relationship satisfaction, stress, exhaustion, trauma history, and other emotional factors weigh more on desire than hormones do.

But you deserve the full picture.

So let's talk about what happens to your body during perimenopause (the transitional period before menopause that can begin in your mid to late thirties and last 10 years) and menopause (when menstrual periods stop permanently and hormone levels drop even further).

We'll explore why you've been misled about hormone replacement therapy, and how this conversation isn't just about sexual desire—it's about reclaiming your life.

A horny revelation

"Years ago, I begged my doctor to prescribe me testosterone," a close friend shared on a recent call. "I told her that if she didn't, I was going to lose my relationship."

She got the prescription. She took testosterone. And then something interesting happened.

"I wanted to pounce on everyone—even the guy cleaning my office windows!—except for my ex," she laughed. "That's when I knew it wasn't my hormones. It was him."

This story perfectly captures the nuanced reality of hormones and desire. Yes, hormones matter. But they're not magic bullets, and they don't exist in a vacuum. Context—your relationship, your stress level, your sense of safety and connection—shapes everything.

Hormone replacement therapy: a big misunderstanding

In the 1990s, the Women's Health Initiative (WHI) decided to study whether estrogen could protect women from heart disease. They took women in their seventies–who hadn't taken estrogen for 20+ years since menopause–and suddenly put them on it. The study ended early when they found small, increased risks of stroke, blood clots, cardiovascular disease, and breast cancer.

The media lost it. Headlines screamed that estrogen was dangerous. Seventy percent of estrogen prescriptions were dropped overnight. Doctors stopped learning how to prescribe FDA-approved medications, pushing women into cash-based hormone clinics with riskier compounded treatments.

But what the study actually taught us was that you shouldn't throw estrogen back into the body of a 70-year-old woman who hasn't had it for decades! That’s because estrogen is heart protective. It helps prevent plaque buildup in our arteries, which is one theory for why women get heart disease much later than men.

So, once estrogen disappears and plaque starts accumulating, throwing estrogen back into the body destabilizes those existing plaques, causing the strokes seen in the WHI study.

The breast cancer findings were equally misleading.

The study wasn't properly randomized for cancer risk, and the placebo group actually had unusually lower rates. Some participants had previously been on estrogen, which would have decreased their breast cancer risk.

In fact, they found that the women who developed breast cancer while on hormone therapy lived longer than breast cancer patients not on any hormones. The reality is that breast cancer is unfortunately common—women develop it regardless of hormone use.

Here's what we now know: Estrogen taken early in menopause (usually before age 60) actually protects against heart disease, anxiety, depression, breast cancer, colon cancer, cognitive problems, insulin resistance, and osteoporosis. It increases longevity. Women on hormone therapy live on average three years longer than those who don't.

What your doctor isn't telling you

Dr. Kelly Casperson tells a story in her book You're Not Broken that perfectly captures our medical system's approach to women's health.

A patient came to her regular doctor in 2021 complaining of vaginal dryness. The doctor offered her an antidepressant.

"Will that help?" the woman asked.

"Probably not," the doctor admitted, "but it might bother you less."

This is medical gaslighting at its finest.

Instead of treating the actual problem—declining estrogen affecting vaginal tissues—we're told to take psychiatric medication to care less about our suffering.

Unfortunately, your doctor probably doesn't know better. Most, including OB-GYNs, receive up to 10 hours of sexual health education in medical school, and almost none on perimenopause or menopause, if at all.

This knowledge gap combines with well-documented medical bias.

Women's symptoms are dismissed more often than men's, including reports of pain. Studies show women wait longer for pain medication and are more likely to have their symptoms attributed to psychological causes.

Add to this doctors' fear of litigation, and you have a perfect storm of inadequate care.

The statistics are staggering: More than one-third of menopausal and perimenopausal women are prescribed antidepressants. That's despite clinical guidelines favoring hormone therapy for menopausal symptoms.

We're not treating the root cause; we're medicating women's distress about being dismissed.

The hormone breakdown

Here’s what's actually happening in your body:

Estrogen maintains female sex characteristics, keeps vaginal tissues moist and healthy, and protects your heart. When it declines, you might experience hot flashes, sleep disruption, vaginal dryness, and mood changes.

Progesterone is estrogen's calming sidekick. It has a muscle-relaxing effect, which is why anxiety often increases in perimenopause as progesterone drops—even before your periods stop.

Testosterone creates lean muscle mass, prevents weight gain, and is primarily responsible for sexual desire. This is why peak desire in premenopausal women happens during ovulation, when both testosterone and estrogen levels are highest.

In fact, clinical trials of testosterone therapy demonstrate 40-60% improvements in sexual desire scores compared to placebo, significantly outperforming estrogen alone.

Studies also reveal improvements in cognitive performance, psychological well-being, and musculoskeletal health in postmenopausal women. One study of women in their late thirties showed that testosterone therapy resulted in statistically significant improvements in both sexual self-rating and mental clarity.

Unfortunately, the bias against testosterone as a "male hormone" means there's insufficient research in the USA to create a female-branded version for hormone replacement. So, nearly 21% of prescriptions for branded male testosterone products are actually written for women.

Beyond the bedroom

This isn't just about sex. When my client Marla started testosterone therapy after years of complete libido loss, her husband said it was like getting his wife back.

But it wasn't just about desire returning—she could finally feel passionate about anything again.

That's what hormones do. They affect your capacity for pleasure and engagement with the world.

Another woman on Reddit’s r/Menopause community described her clitoris feeling "disconnected.” Vibrators had no effect, causing tremendous strain in her otherwise solid marriage.

Three months after starting HRT with testosterone, sensation returned dramatically. But more than that, she felt like herself again.

Genitourinary syndrome of menopause

Without estrogen, 50-80% of menopausal women develop genitourinary syndrome of menopause. That's vaginal dryness, itchiness, irritation, bleeding during sex, decreased pelvic blood flow arousal, difficulty reaching orgasm, clitoral shrinkage, burning with urination, increased urgency and frequency, and recurrent UTIs.

The labia minora actually begins to resorb—to disappear. This matters because they protect the urethra from trauma. Once they're gone, UTIs and vaginal infections become recurrent and painful.

All of these symptoms can be alleviated with vaginal estrogen that is applied locally to restore tissue health and is completely safe, even if you don’t qualify for systemic estrogen.

What consistently surprises me is women who resist taking vaginal estrogen despite complaining about painful sex or recurring UTIs. The stigma around admitting they need help with their vulva and vagina runs so deep that they would rather endure pain than use a treatment that could restore their quality of life within weeks.

Finding your advocate

If you're ready to have this conversation with a healthcare provider, you need to find someone who specializes in perimenopause and menopause. Look for a Menopause Society-certified provider at menopause.org who understands what you’re going through and the nuances of hormone replacement.

You need to advocate for yourself. Research shows that when women say "I just don't feel like myself," we should trust that statement without requiring tests to "prove" their suffering. Your experience is valid.

If a doctor tells you that you can't take hormone therapy, ask why and get a second opinion. If they abruptly take you off hormone therapy, ask why and get a second opinion. Too often women quietly accept what their doctor says without understanding the full picture.

Moving forward

Your forties, fifties, and beyond can be some of the most sexually vibrant decades of your life. But only if we stop accepting the narrative that decline is inevitable and start demanding the care we deserve.

If you're navigating this transition and want support—whether that's understanding your options, improving communication with your partner, or strengthening intimacy in your relationship—I'm here to help. Learn more about working with me here.

The conversation about hormones and desire isn't just medical. It's cultural, relational, and deeply personal. It starts with knowing you have options and that feeling good in your body isn't a luxury. It's your right.

If this shifted how you think about menopause, hormones, or what's possible for your life, please share it with someone who needs to hear it.

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I'd love to hear from you: Have you tried hormone therapy? What's been your experience navigating perimenopause or menopause? Leave a comment and share your thoughts—your story might help another reader who's facing similar decisions.

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3. Vulva Care Essentials - For vulvovaginal health support, I love Momotaro Apotheca’s salve and tonic oil to soothe discomfort and moisturize the vulva. Their products are formulated specifically for intimate care with gentle, effective ingredients. Shop here and get 20% off automatically at checkout.

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When Julie came to me, she had one question: “Why do I resist pleasure?”

See, for Julie, pleasure felt unproductive.

She enjoyed sex. Her husband of 25 years was attentive and generous, always putting her first. But every time he initiated, she felt like she could be doing something more useful. Even though, she admitted, she felt more energized and productive after sex.

So how could she reconcile these contradictions?

Julie’s dilemma is a familiar one. And it’s the antithesis of eros.

British psychoanalyst Adam Philips once said, “We glorify efficiency and fail to recognize that the erotic space is a radiant interlude in which we luxuriate, indifferent to demands of productivity; pleasure is the only goal.”

In an American culture where “what gets measured gets managed,” it’s hard to grasp–let alone value–something that can’t be quantified.

As I got to know Julie better, and, later, her husband Patrick, we uncovered other dynamics that needed tending. Namely, communication and sharing the emotional load in a household with five kids.

For years, Patrick had struggled to ask for help or check in emotionally, but he began shifting. The more he stepped up, the more Julie softened in response.

But there was something else that softened her too: mindfulness.

Back in the 1970s, an American professor called Jon Kabat-Zinn recontextualized Buddhist meditation for medical patients with chronic pain who had tried it all, to no avail.

Rather than fighting the pain, he asked: what if you simply accepted it? What if you observed the sensations without judgment?

The results were groundbreaking: patients reported less pain, fewer symptoms, and better moods—results, when comparing actual numbers, more powerful than many pharmaceutical trials.

Years later, Dr. Lori Brotto applied this same approach to women experiencing sexual difficulties. Specifically, gynecological cancer survivors who reported “feeling nothing” during sex—despite their bodies showing arousal in the lab.

Through mindfulness training, they learned to reconnect with sensation. Desire and pleasure increased, distress decreased, and satisfaction grew.

Dr. Brotto eventually expanded this training to women who had not had cancer, but rather had low sexual desire or pain during sex. The results were just as successful.

This research was pivotal in my own training as a sexologist, and I now guide clients through the very protocol Dr. Brotto developed. It’s an eight-week program of meditations, body scans, and reflective exercises that gradually build awareness and embodiment.

By week five, Julie emailed me in between sessions to share a few breakthroughs she and her husband had in their relationship.

She had been carrying sadness about a family matter when Patrick approached her one morning. He wanted to pleasure her, and wanted nothing in return.

Normally, she would have turned him down, focusing instead on her to-do list or wondering how he could even suggest such a thing when she wasn’t “in the mood.”

But this time she chose differently. She said yes.

She let him pleasure her. And in doing so, she felt cared for at an especially tender moment in her life.

“What I realized later is that I was open to the sensation of pleasure even though I was feeling bad. I don’t think I would have been open to that experience previously and I know in a felt sense that I can hold and experience both sadness, grief and pleasure at the same time.

That feels like a big deal and I think it’s because of our work together with sensations, mindfulness and being curious about the body’s response. Thank you for guiding me through this,” writes Julie.

Since then, Julie and Patrick have begun relating to each other in new ways. Not just toggling between “parents” and “lovers,” but meeting as playmates—through sensual exercises and deeper conversations. “For me, it feels so nourishing to be known in this way and is becoming a foundation for building a stronger sexual and intimate connection.”

Even Patrick has changed. Instead of shutting down when Julie is upset, he now approaches her with curiosity. And she, in turn, feels warmer and more accepting of him.

Healing, I tell her, happens at the speed of trust.

At a time when so many couples feel underwater with endless responsibilities, Julie’s story is a reminder that intimacy is about presence. It’s about relearning how to intentionally slow down to notice sensation, to listen, to play.

What an honor it is to guide people back to that place of possibility where pleasure can coexist with everything else life brings.

“I just wanted you to know that working with you has impacted me in both subtle and powerful ways and it’s making a positive difference in my quality of life and my primary, intimate relationship. I have more hope for Patrick and I to continue to grow our relationship. I’m experimenting with the mantra, ‘Patrick is safe for me to play with.’ It may sound simple, but it feels big for me.”

Whenever you’re ready, here are 2 ways I can support your intimacy journey:

1. Couples Intimacy Card Deck - Turn each other on, one question at a time. I created this deck for you and your partner to have fun talking about sex, exploring your desires and deepening your connection. Read the reviews and shop here. Get 10% off with code LUST10.

2. Transform Sex From Obligation to Anticipation - I help women in relationships feel confident, connected and excited in the bedroom—and beyond. If intimacy has become routine and you want to change that, let’s talk. Book your discovery call here.

If this resonated with you, please share it with someone who might like it too. Thank you so much for reading.

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“Sex is about emotions. Good sex is about free emotions; bad sex is about blocked emotions.” — Deepak Chopra

My favorite memories with my husband are by the sea, drinking wine and laughing about life. Usually in a bikini, salty, slightly bronzed.

What I love most is how much fun we have just the two of us.

In my early twenties, a friend gave one relationship advice that stuck: marry someone whom you can talk to for hours.

My initial reaction was “What about the sex?” But I’ve come to learn that without conversation, there’s no sex. Or rather, no good sex.

Over the last few years, our summer trips have been with groups of friends, in celebration of someone’s birthday. We’d sneak out here or there for some time alone, but our running joke was that we were too tired for sex. Too many plans, too many people, too little time.

This year, feeling exhausted by March and craving time alone, I suggested we head to two sleepy islands in the Greek Cyclades: Sifnos and Serifos.

From the moment we arrived, I felt a slow exhale. I deleted Instagram from my phone and it was the best decision I made all trip.

Without the pressure to share my life in real-time, to capture or curate anything, I could finally, fully rest.

That’s when something unexpected happened: I was so relaxed that my afternoon naps became vividly erotic. I would wake up ravenous for my husband.

Those first three days were some of the best sex we’ve ever had. We were present, we took our time and we devoured each other.

There were no schedules, no dinner reservations, no favors to do. It was just us, waking up slowly and finding our way back to each other.

For British author Alain de Botton, vacation sex is better because “a hotel separates the functions of your daily life to remind you of who that person was before they became so confused with other things.”

But for me, this trip wasn’t a reminder of who he was. It reminded me of who I am when I’m not always “on.” When I let my mind go quiet. When I’m not tracking clicks or clever captions or how to turn this moment into content.

On a recent podcast about intimacy after parenthood, the host Chelsea Kerzner asked me: How do couples bring that erotic vacation energy back home?

I told her that you have to understand what made it easier for you in the first place—and then try to replicate that.

One couple I worked with realized they had more sex every summer in a rented beach house because the bedroom had a built-in concrete bed frame. No creaking, no worrying if the kids would hear anything. That one detail made them feel freer. They ended up building the same style bed into their own home.

For me, the game-changer was deleting social media.

I even made a pact with myself: twice a year—during my summer and winter holidays—I’ll log off entirely. No Instagram, no posting, no lurking. Just being. I’m even thinking about extending it to weekends.

So consider this your gentle August invitation: Take some time to slow down in this last stretch of summer. Let your mind rest and let your body follow.

Your nervous system—and your sex life—will thank you.

P.S. If you want to bring more of that vacation energy into your daily life—more presence, more pleasure, more connection—I’d love to help. You can learn about working with me here and book a free discovery call.

P.P.S. If this shifted how you think about rest, desire, or what intimacy can feel like when you’re not rushing through life—send it to someone who needs that reminder too. Sometimes the most radical thing we can give each other is permission to slow down.

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Whenever you’re ready, here are 2 ways I can support your intimacy journey:

1. Couples Intimacy Card Deck - Turn each other on, one question at a time. I created this deck for you and your partner to have fun talking about sex, exploring your desires and deepening your connection. Read the reviews and shop here. Get 10% off with code LUST10.

2. Transform Sex From Obligation to Anticipation - I help women in relationships feel confident, connected and excited in the bedroom—and beyond. If intimacy has become routine and you want to change that, let’s talk. Book your discovery call here.

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This week I’m answering the following anonymous question I received:

“My wife and I have sex maybe once a month. I understand that with kids, busy schedules, and needing to plan more, it’s harder to find the time or energy. But I miss that part of our relationship. How can I help her feel more open to doing it more regularly without pressuring her?”

Esther Perel, in a recent podcast interview, shared that while we don’t see maintenance sex in the movies, it plays an extremely important role for erotic couples.

“Not everything is a big production. Not every meal is a four-course meal. Some meals are very simple home-cooked food, but they’re no less pleasurable.”

The comments section popped off, highlighting a common dynamic shared between straight couples: maintenance sex works for men, but not so much for women.

I bring this up because it alludes to what you’re going through. And while I agree with Esther, there’s an important element that is missing from this discussion – why does maintenance sex feel like a burden for so many women, especially mothers?

The Impact of Gender Socialization on Female Desire

You know the saying that women like sex less than men do? If you think about it, it’s easy to buy into.

After all, women are constantly being fed narratives that tamper with our desire.

We should protect ourselves, we shouldn’t touch ourselves, we should place other’s needs before ours, we shouldn’t desire but rather be desired.

Absolutely nothing in these narratives gives us women the permission, much less the confidence, to freely explore our bodies, discover what pleasures us, ask for what we want and prioritize ourselves.

“Many of us confuse feeling sexual with feeling sexualized by someone else — in most cases, a man. When our sexuality functions in relation to the male gaze, we are less able to prioritize our own pleasure. Instead (and often without even realizing it) we appeal to our partners first and our sexuality becomes performative,” writes in her article on rediscovering sexuality in motherhood.

Unfortunately, gender socialization puts us at a disadvantage right out of the gate and it is wildly different from what men are taught growing up.

Navigating Sexual Dynamics in Motherhood

Once you have kids, Woolf highlights that “a lot of women treat motherhood similar to their sexuality – as subservient. Passive. As harbors as opposed to ships. Not because we don’t want to be ships. But because our partners and our children look to us for stability - for safety, for a place to rest their heads and hearts (and dicks) at the end of the day.”

This passivity translates into boredom. In fact, a study shows that women are twice as likely as men to be bored with sex in the first year of a relationship.

Not because we like sex less than men do, but because we don’t give ourselves the chance to explore what it is that we want.

"Many experts are now considering that women need variety, novelty, and sexual adventure every bit as much as men do, and possibly more. And when they don’t get it, they shut down sexually,” said Wednesday Martin, author of UNTRUE: Why nearly everything we believe about women, lust and infidelity is wrong and how the new science can set us free in an interview with Vice.

Contending with the monthly sex, then, becomes tolerable. More than that? A hard sell when it feels like one more thing you’re doing for someone else, rather than for yourself.

More Diversity, More Sexual Satisfaction

In 2011, a study by Herbenick, D. et al revealed that gay and bisexual men engaged in five to nine different behaviors during sex. By behaviors, they meant mutual masturbation, giving oral sex, receiving anal sex, and so forth.

That’s a stark contrast to straight couples who usually engage in the predictable three: some kissing, maybe oral and then penetration for the grand finale.

It’s why I think for many women, the problem isn’t expecting a four-course meal each time, because chances are, they’re not having it at all.

The simple home-cooked one works for men because the sex they’re having is phallocentric. It’s centered on how they get off and implicitly ends when they cum.

And if we’re going to be honest here, men tend to have a hard time accepting that others experience desire differently than they do. That it’s not immediate and spontaneous, and anything otherwise requires a lot of work.

But the daily cultivation of erotic connection is done through small acts that should feel natural and pleasurable to do. It also makes it easier to engage in maintenance sex when the opportunity arises.

And when you incorporate variety, it leads to more arousal, orgasms and sexual satisfaction.

So the next time sex is initiated, your partner will remember that the last simple home-cooked meal she had was worth it.

If you’re willing to talk about it and explore what works, these are elements that can be introduced into maintenance sex. Should it interest you, I created the Mindful Intimacy Card Deck to help initiate these conversations more organically.

The Power of Shared Responsibilities

Finally, and this is extremely important, moms – now, more than ever – have a harder time shutting their minds off and relaxing enough to enjoy sex.

It’s because even with full-time jobs, women disproportionately carry the mental load and perform unpaid labor compared to their male partners.

According to a recent Bureau of Labor Statistics survey, women spend 47 more minutes per day on housework (not including groceries, errands or childcare) versus men.

A study from the OECD found that among couples with dual incomes, women still do more of the housework even when they earn more than their male partners.

If you want your wife to get in the mood more easily, start splitting more of the housework and caretaking.

The research is on your side: Straight couples who share housework equally have sex more frequently than those with traditional divisions of labor and report higher relationship satisfaction, according to a study done by the Journal of Marriage and Family.

What can you take off her plate to make her feel more seen and supported? The most successful couples I have worked with take this portion seriously and follow through.

Next Steps to Reignite Desire

Remember that foreplay begins when the last time you had sex ends.

So given everything I’ve shared, here are five questions you can ask your wife to start initiating change and understanding each other better:

1. How is sex normally initiated and does it work for her?

2. Which behaviors do you usually engage in during sex and is she genuinely enjoying them? Which kind of variety can you incorporate?

3. Is she setting aside time for her own pleasure, to do a hobby that lightens her up and to spend time learning what she sexually wants?

4. Do you have a healthy dialogue when talking about sex and do you both feel comfortable asking for what you want?

5. How can you split the mental load and help her feel more supported? This will allow her to relax more easily and have more time to explore her pleasure too.

If this resonates and you want deeper support, I coach women in relationships and couples to transform sex from obligation into anticipation. Together, we'll rebuild desire, improve communication without defensiveness, and create intimacy that feels exciting and connected—for both of you. Book your free discovery call here.

If this resonated with you, the greatest compliment would be to share it with someone who could learn from it too. Thank you for reading!

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P.S. Many readers asked about hormones in the comments. I share why I didn’t mention them in this response, and what you should consider about hormones in perimenopause and menopause, in this deep dive: The Hormone Therapy Myth: What Science Actually Says.

Whenever you’re ready, here are 2 ways I can support your intimacy journey:

1. Couples Intimacy Card Deck - Turn each other on, one question at a time. I created this deck for you and your partner to have fun talking about sex, exploring your desires and deepening your connection. Read the reviews and shop here. Get 10% off with code LUST10.

2. Transform Sex From Obligation to Anticipation - I help women in relationships feel confident, connected and excited in the bedroom—and beyond. If intimacy has become routine and you want to change that, let’s talk. Book your discovery call here.

Subscribe now

When I was 23, I moved back to Brazil for love. I had just graduated from college and done an internship at a hedge fund in São Paulo the summer before. That’s when we met.

It was a messy long distance relationship. My father passed away my senior year, and I was alone in New York City. So, by all accounts, my decision to move felt precipitous. But in that moment, it felt like something solid to hold on to.

I arrived right before Brazil’s Carnaval, which is one big promiscuous bacchanal. There’s an iconic song for the occasion: “I’ll love you all year, except in February”, when Carnaval usually takes place.

He was going on a boys’ trip with his cousins. I wasn’t invited. So I spent the next four days at his family’s farm with his mom.

Something felt off. But I ignored it. I had just moved my entire life to be with him. I wasn’t going to give up so soon.

Turns out psychology has a word for this: trauma denial. If you’ve ever wondered, how did he or she not know?!, it’s not stupidity that was driving it but rather self-preservation.

Trauma denial is “a type of self-delusion that we employ when too much is at stake and we have too much to lose,” writes psychologist Esther Perel in her book The State of Affairs. “The mind needs coherence, so it disposes of inconsistencies that threaten the structure of our lives.”

A year later, he told me he slept with two women during that trip. What was a relief for him felt like an unbearable burden for me. I remember thinking: I wish he had never told me.

Which brings us to one of the hardest questions infidelity raises: When should we tell?

It also raises other questions: When would we want to know? Does that depend on whether it was a one-time thing or an affair with someone they’ve fallen in love with? When is it actually helpful and when is sadistic?

Psychologist Lisa Spiegel encourages us to consider whether a disclosure is honest, helpful, or kind. What’s your intention in sharing? What do you want your partner to do with that information?

Is respect, in certain circumstances, not sharing everything?

I decided to stay, but it set the tone for a relationship that brought out the worst in us. Sometimes, that’s what happens when you navigate infidelity without professional guidance.

I began to think about infidelity a lot after that. Why we do it, how different cultures approach it, how we cope with it, and why—even with so many public forms of reprehension and laws throughout history—it persists.

In my private practice, I work with couples navigating infidelity. I see firsthand how painful it is, and how it can build the relationship anew.

An estimated one in three couples in the US are impacted by infidelity, according to clinical psychologist Dr. Janis Spring in her book After the Affair.

For something so common, it’s surprising that there is no shared definition for it.

What do you consider cheating? Is it porn? An OnlyFans subscription? Flirty texts? Liking an Instagram bikini pic? Having feelings for someone else without becoming sexually involved?

The problem isn’t just the behavior. It’s that we often don’t define the boundaries of our relationship until something crosses them.

And when infidelity becomes public, the reactions are often extreme. Like the couple on the jumbotron at a Coldplay concert.

While there is no question that what they did was wrong, last week’s viral scandal highlights how we as a society have a more visceral reaction to cheating than we do to violence.

One popular comment on Instagram said there should be laws that strip everything away from cheaters, including their finances.

As journalist Kat Rosenfield pointed out, “There are literal mass murderers who enjoy more anonymity and less opprobrium than these two.”

In the US, we tend to be more comfortable with violence than with sex.

The video game Grand Theft Auto sparked controversy in America around a pixelated sex scene—not the murder sprees. Meanwhile in other countries, it’s censored or banned because of the latter.

Hollywood film ratings reflect this, too. Movies with nudity or consensual sex are rated more harshly than those with blood and gore.

In her book Lust in Translation, Pamela Druckerman notes, “Adultery provokes more outrage in America than in almost any other country on record (Ireland and the Philippines are two exceptions).”

But why?

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Monogamy and the rise of romantic idealism

The history of monogamy is rooted not in romance, but in economics.

As humans settled from nomadic tribes into agricultural communities, monogamy served a purpose: to protect lineage and inheritance.

For centuries, marriage was an economic arrangement. Love (and lust) was found elsewhere—a privilege given solely to men. Sex within marriage was a duty, mainly for reproduction.

But everything changed in the last 150 years. The Industrial Revolution, Hollywood, feminism, and birth control shifted the cultural tides.

We moved from marriage as strategic survival to marriage as fulfillment. From large family units in the countryside to isolated nuclear homes in the city (and later, the suburbs).

In that pressure cooker, we started asking our partners to be everything: best friend, lover, co-parent, financial partner, soul mate.

Ironically, “our high expectations for personal happiness might even make us more likely to cheat. After all, aren’t we entitled to an affair, if that’s what it takes to be fulfilled?” writes Druckerman.

It’s no wonder modern romanticism can feel like an impossible performance.

Why does cheating hurt so much?

Sex, once a reproductive obligation, became linked with pleasure and love.

In the past, affairs were a threat to financial stability, yet usually tolerated (by women, I might add).

Today, they feel intolerable because they strike at something far more personal: our identity and sense of self-worth.

Am I not enough? Did I make this all up? What do they have that I don’t?

We’ve collapsed the individual into the couple. We give up hobbies, friendships, even parts of ourselves in the name of “us.”

So when “us” is fractured, we’re left wondering who we even are.

And the pain is real.

Studies show that heartbreak activates the same regions of the brain as physical pain. It triggers shortness of breath, gastrointestinal distress, increase in heart rate and chest tightness.

While there are endless reasons for why we cheat, Perel says that the common ones are “often a longing and yearning for an emotional connection, novelty, freedom, autonomy, sexual intensity; a wish to recapture lost parts of ourselves; or an attempt to bring back vitality in the face of loss and tragedy.”

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So what do we do?

First, we have to name our definitions. Talk about what “cheating” means to you. Don’t wait for betrayal to have that conversation.

Second, we need better responses—not just punishment and shame.

As holistic sex educator Lauren Rogers puts it, when an affair becomes public, “we tend to see the entire globe rally together to shame sexual behavior.” But we’re not having important conversations about how to sustain eroticism or connection in long-term relationships. “Instead,” she says, “we’re continuing to feed our culture these old, outdated, and antiquated scripts that it is not polite to talk about sex.”

If you’re wondering how to start the conversation, I created the Intimacy Card Deck for this very purpose.

Lastly—and I cannot stress this enough—rebuild your sense of self-worth in ways that exist outside of your relationship. Reconnect with old friends. Make new ones. Say yes to the painting class or dance lessons you used to love. Take yourself on dates. Do things that remind you of who you are, and what lights you up, outside of being a partner.

This is where I begin with clients recovering from infidelity: not just with the couple, but with the self. Because healing is as much about repairing the relationship, as it is about remembering your wholeness.

If this resonated, please share it with someone who could benefit from it as well. Thank you!

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1. Couples Intimacy Card Deck - Turn each other on, one question at a time. I created this deck for you and your partner to have fun talking about sex, exploring your desires and deepening your connection. Read the reviews and shop here. Get 10% off with code LUST10.

2. Transform Sex From Obligation to Anticipation - I help women in relationships feel confident, connected and excited in the bedroom—and beyond. If intimacy has become routine and you want to change that, let’s talk. Book your discovery call here.

I will never forget the first time I had anal sex.

It was, quite literally, a pain in the ass. I felt like I was going to poop the entire time. How on earth can anyone enjoy this?

I wrote off anal like one does cold plunging. Is this even necessary?!

Besides, when it came to penetration, my vagina was taking it in just fine. Thank you.

Then one day I was reading Zachary Zane’s Boyslut, and he described orgasming from penile stimulation like driving a car when you’re 16. Very exciting, but by the time you’re 30, you’re used to it.

Anal orgasms, on the other hand, feel like you’re driving a flying car. “Do you know what never gets old? A FLYING CAR.”

That stopped me in my tracks. I mean, who doesn’t want that kind of orgasm?!

As a straight woman who used to think anal sex was just something husbands nag about, I wondered: Where was this delightful insight my whole life?? And why aren’t more women talking about it?!

Is it even possible for someone like me, who doesn’t have a prostate, to have such orgasm?

Turns out, it does.

The A-zone—located between the cervix and bladder on the front vaginal wall—is a potential source of deep, full-body pleasure. According to friends who’ve had one, it lasts longer than a clitoral orgasm and feels like a blissful buzz from head to toe.

So last week, I moderated a Sex Talks event in NYC with Dr. Evan Goldstein—THE authority on anal health. He’s an anal surgeon, heads his own practice called Bespoke Surgical and founded Future Method, the brand behind some of the best anal wellness tools on the market.

His book Butt Seriously is the ultimate guide to anal sex, and if you’re intrigued after reading this, I highly recommend ordering it.

Here’s what I learned

There are five common reasons anal sex feels painful:

1. Tight muscles

2. Thin skin

3. Too little lube

4. Lack of relaxation

5. Lack of education

The anus has three sphincter muscles. You can consciously control two of them (they’re the ones you squeeze to avoid a public accident). The third one—the internal sphincter—is involuntary.

So if you’re relaxed but still can’t take it, the culprit might be this inner ring.

Also, that skin back there? It's delicate. Especially for women, the tissue is thinner and prone to tearing, which is why lube isn’t optional—it’s critical.

Silicone-based lubes are ideal because they don’t disrupt your microbiome and last longer.

As Dr. Goldstein explains, “Your ass is built to respond to signaling and pressure to push from the inside out. Anal sex asks it to do the complete opposite, and in reverse order.”

That “I’m gonna poop” sensation is your brain misreading the stretch signal. And the good news is that you can train those muscles to overcome that.

The six-week booty protocol

Dr. Goldstein recommends a six-week routine using anal dilators to build up your body’s readiness. It strengthens the skin, teaches the muscles to relax on cue, and helps you get used to sensation.

It’s a bit like meditation: awkward and uncomfortable at first, but it gets easier with practice.

Here’s the short version:

1. Start with the smallest dilator. Add lots of silicone lube.

2. Insert 1.5–2 inches, or until you feel resistance. Breathe.

3. Hold for 3–5 seconds, then slowly remove, re-lube, and repeat.

4. Do 8–12 reps per set, for 2–3 sets per session, 2–3 times per week.

5. Every 2 weeks, move up in size if it feels good. You don’t have to use the biggest one unless that’s your goal.

You can do this lying on your side or standing. Over time, you’ll build both physical and psychological trust in your body’s ability to receive.

If you climax while doing this, that’s totally fine. Just notice how your body responds and try to stay relaxed through the waves.

And if, after all that, things still feel tight?

There are more options—from anal Botox (yes, really) to minor surgical procedures that relieve pressure and increase comfort. Dr. Goldstein assures me they’re safe, fast, and effective.

When you’re ready to invite a partner

Choose positions where you control depth and tempo. Cowgirl and reverse cowgirl are great options. Save doggy style for later, once you’ve built more trust with your body and your partner.

You can also play with angles to explore what spots hit best for you, so that you too can eventually feel like you’re driving a flying car.

While it’s common for people to use alcohol or drugs to “loosen up” before anal sex, it’s worth treading carefully.

Think of it like wearing noise-canceling headphones while walking through a crowded street—you might feel less anxious, but you’re also less attuned to danger signs. When your body’s natural signals are numbed, it’s easier to miss pain cues, which increases the risk of tearing or injury.

Whatever you explore under the influence should be something you can also enjoy—and navigate—while fully sober.

Mind over matter

Sometimes, it’s not about whether your body can—it’s whether your mind feels safe enough to try.

You might have all the physical ingredients for pleasurable anal sex: flexible skin, responsive muscles, great lube. But if you're carrying stress, cultural shame, fear of judgment, past trauma, or just too many unanswered questions, your body can instinctively shut the door before anything even begins.

That clench isn’t always about muscles—it’s about your nervous system guarding the gates.

Pleasure asks us to soften. And softening doesn’t come from forcing yourself past discomfort—it comes from feeling emotionally safe, informed, and in choice.

If you’re struggling with that internal resistance, it’s okay to take your time. And it might help to not go it alone.

In my 1:1 work, I support clients in untangling the mental knots that get in the way of pleasure—so they can approach new experiences not just with openness, but with genuine readiness.

Our bodies are capable of so much more than we’ve been told. I genuinely believe I’ve only scratched the surface of my pleasure potential.

Chances are, so have you.

If you think anyone else would enjoy reading this too, please share it with them. Thank you!

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Whenever you’re ready, here are 2 ways I can support your intimacy journey:

1. Couples Intimacy Card Deck - Turn each other on, one question at a time. I created this deck for you and your partner to have fun talking about sex, exploring your desires and deepening your connection. Read the reviews and shop here. Get 10% off with code LUST10.

2. Transform Sex From Obligation to Anticipation - I help women in relationships feel confident, connected and excited in the bedroom—and beyond. If intimacy has become routine and you want to change that, let’s talk. Book your discovery call here.

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