Bed Death: Inevitable or the Kiss of Death?
The moment when the sexual spark dies in a relationship.
“I’m scared,” my friend says, eyes wide in a half-haunted, half-exaggerated performance of the sentiment. “So many of my friends are getting married, and a lot of these couples have already stopped having sex.” My other friend starts shaking her head as though trying to dodge the idea entirely. “Nooooo,” she groans in denial. “Oh, like lesbian bed death?” I ask. My friends aren’t familiar. I explain that as a queer woman, I am well-acquainted with the pejorative stereotype that lesbian relationships devolve into a sexless night-time routine of Victorian hand-holding and crossword puzzles in bed. I’ve always hated the term, as it feels outdated and Y2K-ish, a relic from the days we used words like “metrosexual.” If I’m being honest with myself, my resentment of the term is in direct proportion to my fear of it. As I reached my late 20s and friends started settling into long-term relationships, my apprehension deepened—gay, straight, and anywhere in between, they too reported more and more that sex was an exception and not the default in years-long partnerships. Like the self-interested, laptop-wielding pop journalist I am, I couldn’t help but wonder: Is “bed death” an inevitable touchstone of long-term relationships, or is it the kiss of death?
When I brought up the concept to my fellow editors, they, too, responded with the same wide-eyed horror. “I can’t stop thinking forever is a concept that really terrifies me,” my co-worker shared with a thousand-yard stare. After divulging our own relationship histories, we all realized we were too similar to get any new perspective on the issue; “All my friends that work in media are single,” another editor put it bluntly. She was right. I’d never been in a relationship that made it past two and a half years, I harbored no fantasies of marriage, and for a lot of us, work was the only long-term relationship where we’d invested any hopes, dreams, and desires. I remember talking to a high school friend who was always certain she wanted to shack up, settle down, and raise kids. She once said, “Sex is fun and exciting at the beginning of a relationship, but that just naturally fades over time.” Alarmed by her blasé attitude, I prompted, “Doesn’t that scare you?” She answered, “Just seems kind of inevitable, right?” Here was a different side of the story: a person resigned to the inevitability that a sexual spark serves to unite two people then fades to the banalities of full-time domesticity.
Knowing that at 29 and single, I had no leg to stand on in terms of making sweeping statements about the phenomenon, and am even less equipped to give anyone advice, I elicited the help of two couples therapists. In interviewing psychiatrist Dr. Raafat W. Girgis and LMFT Jeff Yoo (Licensed Family and Marriage Therapist), I was able to untangle the phenomenon of “bed death” from the nebulous suppositions of what is considered inevitable, avoidable, or deadly within a relationship. Off that bat, Yoo confirms, “Loss of a sexual spark is something that would concern anyone, healthy or not.” That being said, “the concept that passion does not decrease over the life of a relationship is a fairy tale.” Apparently, happily ever after simply does not account for the Sisyphean slog of daily adult life. Yoo continues, “In my opinion, and based on my experience when working with couples, the sexual spark begins its decline in about the 7th year of marriage or long-term relationships.” It seems the “seven-year itch” is more than just a plot device in a Marilyn Monroe film. Yoo explains, “It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with sexual orientation. However, in couples with higher education and active social lives with high-powered jobs, this is very common.” Feeling vindicated that “bed death” didn’t belong only to lesbians, I continued my quest to get to the heart of this phenomenon.
Both Dr. Girgis and Yoo listed the most common causes of “dead bed:” busy and overwhelming schedules, demanding jobs, stress, anxiety, menopause, hormonal shifts, erectile dysfunction, declining health, and mismatched libido. What is the universal advice when facing these situations? Communication, communication, communication. The frequency of this as a solution has become close to meaningless after a barrage of pop psychology pieces and “modern love” articles in the New York Times. While we’re used to—and likely frustrated with—this being a blanket answer to all relationship problems, “communication” can seem particularly intimidating when it comes to issues of sexual performance and desire. Both doctors acknowledge the intense insecurities that these conversations can raise and agree that it’s best to seek professional help before making any drastic life decisions (whether they’re plugging their practices or not, I agree with them).
Yoo says, “Talk, see a professional, be kind always, and use communication that avoids shame and blame.” If you and your partner haven’t had sex in a few weeks nor spoken about it, the topic becomes more and more unapproachable with every passing day. Dr. Girgis shared an anecdote of a patient who said her emotionally abusive husband was withholding sex and affection because she was “old and out of shape.” When they went to couples therapy, Dr. Girgis discovered that “the husband was impotent and instead of focusing on his own health issues, he made it about her. He was transferring his own shame towards her.” If you’re looking for a ray of hope, Dr. Girgis shared that the couple was “able to improve their communication and began discussing issues in place of age and body shaming. [The husband] saw a medical team that came up with a plan of action to help him resolve his health issues, and they returned to a loving and happy relationship.” All emotional abuse and gaslighting considered, I would have divorced the jackass, but hey…love wins!
While both professionals agree that the diagnosis of “bed death” can have too many individual causes to give a diagnostic list of red flags, they agree that intimacy and affection often evolve over the course of the relationship, and sex is just one of many moving parts. Dr. Girgis explains, “In my opinion, working with older people or long-term couples, they seem to spend less time touching, hugging, or sleeping in the same room. If one is ill, the other becomes the caretaker and responsible for the other. It is important to keep affection active regardless of the ability or the desire to be engaged in sexual activities. Love language is not always about sex but about touch and affection.”
After reading Dr. Girgis’ response, I felt slightly humbled and ashamed of my knee-jerk tendency to conflate sex with the success of a relationship. Yoo also shared an anecdote of two “Barbie- and Ken”-level attractive personal trainers where sex and desire were never an issue in their relationship. In fact, it was the only thing they had, and their marriage fell apart due to a lack of respect and trust. In my fear that sex was a barometer for the health of a long-lasting marriage, I’d forgotten what is appealing about relationships outside of sexual gratification: affection, caretaking, safety, trust, and building a life with another person. In short, sex isn’t everything. Maybe my high school friend was more emotionally mature than me in her desire for a connection stronger than sex alone. Then I thought about it more—the type of couples that call their spouses “mommy” and “daddy” after having kids, the king-size bed with a cream upholstered headboard that screams sexual sterility, laying in bed with only the sudoku app to give you a sense of gratification—I buckled again, and the fear returned with renewed fire. Yes, sex isn’t everything, but it certainly is something.
After conducting my interviews, I had a conversation with my friend Miller over lunch and mentioned I was about to start writing this very article. He rolled his eyes, “Really? Bed death?” Knowing I had to write it whether he approved or not, I immediately got defensive. “What? You think it’s stupid?” He explained, “I just feel like the term is so outdated, and I’ve already read so many think pieces on it. They all say the same thing—‘communicate with your partner, explore nonmonogamy, spice up your sex life,’ blah blah blah.’” I waffled a bit, realizing I was expecting more wide-eyed fear to validate this as a subject worthy of exploration, but was instead met with staunch indifference. Sensing my desperation, he prompted, “I’m assuming you have something new to say about it.” I could feel a sentiment forming, but it was hard to grasp. “I think that’s just it,” I started, “Our generation came of age with this phenomenon being widely discussed. So many of our dating styles, deal breakers, and red flags were forged in the fire of these Sex-and-the-City sitcom conundrums.”
What I realized in that moment is that Miller’s eye roll was exactly the point I was trying to make: ”bed death” as a concept is entirely passé. “Death” in relation to the phenomenon implies not only a finality, but a passivity on both sides of the proverbial “bed.” I childishly envisioned “bed death” as some type of external parasitic virus, infecting a relationship abruptly with no chance of survival. When I think about my teenage mind being marinated in the platitudes of Sex and the City, I realized just how hyperbolic and antiquated concepts like “bed death” had become in 2023. Ms. Bradshaw, with her men-are-from-Mars-women-are-from-Venus ideologies, painted a world of relationships in which farting in front of your partner was relationship suicide. She talks with her girlfriends about how sex with Big went from hot to sweet—clearly a sign their union was doomed. While it was revolutionary for sex in general to be discussed openly on TV, and likely incredibly liberating for generations of women for whom any conversation about sex was verboten, we’ve all outgrown the fantasy that there are any cut-and-dry rules for relationships. Following post-boomer divorce rates, millennials are markedly postponing marriage, dating longer, sewing our oats more extensively, and creating a more nuanced language around sexuality. Instead of living in a world where men and women can no sooner fart in front of each other than openly talk about sex, we now have no excuse not to be having these conversations with our partners.
In examining this topic, I’ve found that “bed death” as an idea is simply hyperbolic—a relationship boogeyman of sorts. A far less scary prospect would be accepting that in any long-term relationship, there will be sexual lulls (work, sickness, schedules, etc.). The critical error of “bed death” is that it removes accountability from the couple, creating an event that “happened” to them. If bed death scares you, but you are invested in the idea of a long-term relationship, know that you are at least 50% responsible for maintaining the sexual health of that relationship. Yes, “communication” between partners is the default advice, but I really think we need to communicate more clearly with ourselves. Be honest about your libido—is it a good match with your partner long-term? What gratification do you get outside of sex? If novelty is integral to your sexual gratification, maybe you’re better suited for non-monogamy, polyamory, or open relationships. I think the situation actually inspires fear that we may need to put a lot more work into our relationships than we bargained for—and we can’t count on some “lust at first sight” spark to carry us through ‘til death do us part. While we're all deserving of a sexually gratifying and healthy partnership, we are not entitled to it without putting in the work.