He never makes sense: ‘I sometimes feel like a nympho if I just grab my vibrator again’

“Daisy Douchekop, my friends call me. The result of an evening with way too much chardonnay, on which I became a little too loose-lipped. The fact that my friend Timor and I have sex at most once a month since the children, got a lot of trouble. Because of the fact that I didn’t often ‘need’. To be clear, low libido is still largely the preserve of women in public opinion. I should have kept that shower head to myself. But still: the vibrator they gave me on my next birthday is a life saver. Hidden safely in my sock drawer, though.

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The wallpaper on the walls

It is a miracle that I got pregnant twice as fast. Timor and I never sexed the wallpaper on the walls. On my side, the appeal was there – still. But after having sex twice in our first weekend together, he sighed: “This could be a bit less, I really can’t keep this up.” I thought he was kidding. We were in our mid-twenties; every man with whom I had shared bed up to that point liked it porridge. Not Timor. But that he really meant that seriously, I only discovered when we were already living together.

We had busy jobs and our social life involved a lot of parties and parties. It seemed logical that we sometimes did not even get around to a goodnight kiss on Friday after we had hung in the lamps again. On Saturday we had a hangover, so with a bit of luck it came to Sunday morning sex. During the week I could usually also spawn him once, if I did my best. And that was it.

Pulled out all the stops

When we moved in together after two years of scratching, Timor’s sex drive only plummeted further. The weekends were no longer special; after all, we were always together. I pulled out all the stops. Sexy lingerie. Porn. He didn’t care. When I cried when I asked if he actually found me attractive, he said, “I just don’t have that high libido.” He didn’t agree with himself, he claimed. But when he turned me down for the umpteenth time one morning shortly after and I got up to make breakfast in bed, I returned to a wet spot on the duvet. We also had a good time; we shared everything that is fun in life. Visiting festivals. Out with friends. Eating out, traveling and laughing about cabaret together. But since then I never made any preparations for a flaming lovemaking.

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Ultimate expression of love

Since the children were born, our wild life has been hanging by the willows and that doesn’t make the lust any better. Of course, I too am tired after a week of hard work taking care of the children next door. But where I just recharge from a game of sex, Timor cannot afford it. Now we hardly ever do it again.

Sometimes I feel like a nympho if I just pick up my vibrator – which he doesn’t know existed by the way. As if I were the one with the deviant sex drive; I’m even a little embarrassed about it. While I am not concerned with the horniness at all; making love to me is the ultimate expression of love. I have accepted that Timor expresses it in other ways. No relationship is perfect, there are always concessions. And there is no man who can match Timor’s total package besides sex. ”

This article has previously appeared in Kek Mama.

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