“I got tired of the rejection,” he said. He deeply loved his wife, but as the weeks rolled on, he found himself increasingly wondering how long their marriage could continue to function under such emotional strain. They had not engaged in sexual intimacy in six months, a milestone that weighed heavily on his self-esteem and left him questioning the fundamental health of their partnership.
The story of Phil and Tina, documented by renowned relationship researchers John Gottman and Joan DeClaire in their book The Relationship Cure, begins with a husband who feels deeply unwanted and disconnected. Yet, as is so often the case in long-term relationships, Tina had her own perspective on those quiet, tense evenings. Her side of the story reveals a complex web of external stress and internal pressure, raising a critical question that many couples face: How can partners even begin to talk about missing sex when simply asking for it has already become a source of anxiety and dread?
Why He Stopped Asking
At the time their intimacy began to fracture, Tina’s company was going through a massive and tumultuous corporate reorganization. She spent her demanding days trapped in high-stakes, tense meetings where she found herself constantly defending people’s jobs and navigating office politics. By the time she finally came home, she was utterly exhausted, depleted, and completely unable to seamlessly shake off the lingering anxiety of the workday. Underneath that exhaustion, she simply did not have the emotional bandwidth to talk to anyone, let alone navigate physical intimacy.
Phil, witnessing his wife’s distress, genuinely wanted to reassure her and offer comfort. But when he instinctively turned to the familiar physical touches that had historically brought them together, Tina experienced his advances very differently. Instead of feeling comforted, she became tense and defensive. She silently worried that her husband would be deeply hurt unless she responded with immediate, enthusiastic reciprocal desire. While the professional world demanded something from her all day long, her home life became a new source of performance anxiety—she was constantly worried about disappointing her husband.
For his part, Phil could clearly see how insecure he had become over the preceding months. Recognizing his own vulnerability, however, did not make it any easier for him to summon the courage to approach her again. To protect his rapidly eroding pride and to avoid the crushing sting of yet another passive rebuff, Phil ultimately made the painful decision to stop trying altogether.
There had been no single, catastrophic fight or explosive argument that tore them apart. Outwardly, they still loved and cared for each other deeply. Yet, by the time they finally sat down together side-by-side in a marriage and family therapist’s office, Phil harbored a quiet, lingering fear that they might not actually make it as a couple.
When Partners Stop Reaching for Each Other
In the framework developed by Dr. John Gottman, any attempt by one partner to engage the other—whether it is asking about a particularly difficult meeting, sharing an observation, or reaching out for a reassuring hand—is defined as a bid. Initiating sexual intimacy can also be viewed as a deeply significant bid for connection. How partners respond to these ongoing, daily overtures helps each person understand whether the other is genuinely interested in connecting or pulling away.
In The Relationship Cure, Gottman describes the subtle psychological dynamics that unfold when people become intensely reluctant to try again after experiencing an unsuccessful approach. This reluctance can take root even in otherwise stable and generally satisfied relationships. Over time, a partner may eventually voice complaints about the growing emotional and physical distance, or they may simply withdraw from contact entirely, retreating into a protective shell of silence. The receiving partner, meanwhile, may hear only criticism and accusation in these complaints, or they may simply notice with a heavy heart that fewer and fewer approaches are being made.
This dynamic raises a poignant question: How much of the underlying hurt ever actually gets expressed aloud between two people who love each other?
Someone who vividly remembers the last time their partner reached for them, only to be met with hesitation or rejection, may still struggle profoundly to articulate just how unwanted they truly feel. Paradoxically, complaining about the sheer infrequency of sex in the relationship can often feel significantly easier than admitting the raw, vulnerable truth—that they are simply terrified of asking again and risking another rejection.
The partner on the receiving end of that complaint invariably carries their own narrative, too. Tina was coming home night after night overwhelmed by workplace anxiety, inwardly worrying about how quickly she was expected to transform her stress into sexual desire. Phil, while aware of the professional strain she was under, had not yet heard the full scope of what she felt about their struggling sex life. Trapped behind invisible walls of apprehension, neither partner could accurately gauge from the other’s silence just how deeply lonely their significant other felt.
How to Talk About Feeling Sexually Rejected
The dynamic of mismatched desire or retreating intimacy is universal, and either partner can find themselves in the position of wanting more sex than the other is currently able to provide.
In another of his seminal works, The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work, Gottman strongly recommends approaching the topic of sex with gentleness, positivity, and care. He points out how uniquely vulnerable people feel when it comes to fundamental questions of personal attractiveness and competence as a lover. Harsh criticism, blame, or demands only serve to make an already delicate conversation exponentially harder.
As a concrete, practical alternative to accusing a partner of never touching or desiring them, Gottman suggests recalling a specific past moment of physical connection—such as a kiss that felt genuinely good—and asking for more of that specific experience. In doing so, the partner hears clearly what was pleasurable and what is desired in the present moment, without immediately being forced onto the defensive.
Yet, a persistent challenge remains: How can someone effectively talk about feeling sexually rejected without inadvertently making their partner feel unfairly obliged or pressured to have sex out of guilt?
The answer often lies in utilizing what relationship experts call a softened start-up. In this approach, the person speaking takes care to describe their own vulnerable feelings and what they would warmly welcome, rather than launching into a critique of their partner’s behavior. Someone might candidly express that they miss physical intimacy and explain how hurt they feel by the current distance. Crucially, their partner is then free to listen and empathize without feeling an immediate, suffocating obligation to consent to sex.
Gottman places immense emphasis on how couples handle the inevitable moments of refusal. He notes that it is imperative that there be no negative consequences—such as prolonged sulking, passive-aggressive withdrawal, or overt anger—if a partner ultimately says “no.” When negative reactions consistently follow a refusal, it inevitably trains the partner to become far less willing to initiate or engage in the future.
Conversely, for the partner who is saying no, Gottman recommends offering clear, loving reassurance. It is entirely possible to decline a sexual advance while still explicitly reaffirming your love for your partner and assuring them that you find them attractive. Neither partner has to pretend to feel a desire that isn’t currently there. Instead, couples can proactively talk about how to decline gracefully and how to receive that answer without turning a simple lack of momentary inclination into an overarching judgment of the entire relationship.
After Six Months Without Sex
In his book What Makes Love Last?, Gottman addresses the profound emotional hurt that frequently accompanies a partner’s gradual withdrawal from sexual intimacy. He examines a wide variety of possible contributing circumstances, ranging from chronic external stress and biological changes to natural discrepancies in baseline desire. He observes that while some couples do stop having sex yet remain entirely satisfied with the overall state of their relationship, a dangerous threshold is crossed when physical withdrawal is left unaddressed. When partners fail to communicate honestly and lovingly, the resulting silence allows deep hurt and feelings of rejection to take root.
For Phil and Tina, the turning point in their long-standing stalemate did not happen at home, but rather within the safe confines of the therapist’s office. There, under professional guidance, Phil finally articulated the hurt and frustration behind why he had stopped trying. Upon hearing his words, Tina broke down in tears, admitting that their stagnant sex life was not working for her either.
Then, after a long, heavy silence that hung in the room, she added softly, “I miss making love, too.”
Phil looked across at her and answered in a quiet voice, “You never told me that before.”
