Why Sex Feels Like a Chore After Marriage

Before I got married, I thought sex would always be spontaneous. You know, the hot kind that happens in the kitchen while making dinner or on the couch during a Netflix binge that turns into something much steamier. I believed marriage would be this delicious, lifelong sleepover with the love of my life. And for a while, it was. Until it wasn’t.

Eventually, sex turned into something I had to remember to do. Like laundry. Or renewing my driver’s license.

I never imagined I’d reach a point in my marriage where the idea of sex felt more exhausting than exciting. Not because I didn’t love my husband. Not because I wasn’t attracted to him. But because… I was tired. Emotionally, mentally, physically tired. And nobody warned me that desire can drown in the daily grind.

Let me break down how it happened—and more importantly, what I did to fix it before resentment turned permanent.

Phase One: The Slow Fade

At first, the drop in intimacy was so subtle I almost didn’t notice. A skipped night here, a busy week there. We chalked it up to life—work, bills, sick pets, broken appliances. You name it.

But then came the routines. I knew what kind of kisses he’d give me (the half-distracted peck), what kind of foreplay he’d attempt (the half-hearted boob grab), and what time it would happen (9:17 PM, on the dot, right after brushing teeth). It started feeling scripted. Like we were actors in a play we were no longer passionate about.

And I began to dread the “should we do it tonight?” look. It made me feel guilty for wanting sleep instead of sex. Or annoyed for being expected to summon desire on command when my brain was still preoccupied with tomorrow’s grocery list.

Phase Two: The Great Disconnect

What no one tells you is that libido isn’t just about hormones. It’s about connection.

I didn’t realize how emotionally starved I was until one night I caught myself Googling: “Why do I feel so lonely in a relationship?” Not “why don’t I want sex,” but lonely. That was the real issue.

It wasn’t about not being horny. It was about not feeling seen. Not feeling held unless it led to something else. Not feeling like intimacy was for me, too. I missed the flirting. The thoughtful texts. The playful touches with no ulterior motive.

So, of course, sex started to feel like a chore. Because when you don’t feel emotionally safe or adored, your body doesn’t exactly throw open the bedroom door like, “Take me now!”

It wasn’t just the logistics—it was the emotional labor.

What I Did About It

Now here’s the part where I could say something cliché like, “We just had an honest conversation and everything changed overnight.” But no. Real intimacy takes work. And sometimes you have to get a little creative.

Here’s what helped:

1. I Stopped Faking It

Emotionally and physically. If I wasn’t in the mood, I said so—without guilt. But I also stopped lying about why I wasn’t in the mood. Instead of “I’m just tired,” I told him, “I feel like you only touch me when you want sex, and that makes me shut down.”

Scary? Yes. But the truth cracked open a much-needed dialogue.

2. We Started Scheduling Intimacy (Don’t Laugh)

I used to think scheduled sex was the death of romance. Turns out, it’s just adulting with a twist. Planning intimacy meant we both prepared for it. I took a long shower. He lit candles. We weren’t trying to cram it between emails and sleep. It brought back anticipation—and weirdly, that made it sexier.

3. I Reclaimed My Own Pleasure

I had outsourced my desire to my relationship. But what about me? I started reading erotica again. Bought myself lingerie that I liked (not just the kind he liked). I even tried guided sensual meditation. Yes, that’s a thing. Turns out, reigniting your own fire makes it a lot easier to light someone else’s.

4. We Had a “No-Pressure” Night

One night a week, we agreed to get physically close—cuddle, kiss, even lie naked together—but no expectation of sex. Sometimes it led to it. Sometimes it didn’t. But it reminded us that touch doesn’t always have to be transactional. It can just be tender.

5. We Talked. A Lot.

Real, vulnerable talks. About what turned us on. About what didn’t. About what we missed. And sometimes, we laughed. Because honestly, marriage is weird. Sex in long-term relationships is weirder. And if you can’t laugh about it, you’ll cry.

Chores Can Be Fun, Too

Here’s the thing: I still do laundry. I still cook dinner. And yes, I still have sex. But now, it doesn’t feel like another item on my to-do list. It feels like a choice. A pleasure. A reconnection.

Sometimes, marriage will test your libido in ways no dating app or honeymoon phase ever prepared you for. But if you’re both willing to look beyond the “lack of sex” and into the why, you just might find something better than spark—you might find depth.

And that? That’s worth working for.