How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Have a question? Send it to Jessica and Rich here. It’s anonymous!
Dear How to Do It,
My 36-year-old husband, “Carlos,” suffered a severe injury at work last year, with his abdomen being punctured by a steel shaft. Recovery has been very slow and is still incomplete, but he’s a lot better than he was even a month ago. He’s started to indicate he wants to have sex again, gently, and resume that part of our marriage.
His doctor says that he should be up for “light” sexual activity. In theory, I would like to resume our sex life too. It’s been a long time. But I can’t seem to find myself in an erotic state of mind about him anymore. I’ve had to care for a lot of his physical needs while he was recovering, including helping him toilet in the early parts of his convalescence. I don’t in any way mind or resent him for that, but at the same time, there’s something about “caretaker” that seems to be incompatible with “lover” and I can’t seem to shake myself back into the other mindset, even as I’ve stopped the caretaker part quite so intensely. How do I reorient things, and get back to seeing him as sexy again?
—Reigniting the Spark
Send Us Your Sex Questions!
Have a sex question for Jessica and Rich or have an update on a former letter? Send it to us here!
Jessica Stoya: So Dr. Mitchell Tepper, a friend of the column, was the filmmaker behind a documentary called Love After War that follows a few returning troops who were physically disabled during their service. I’ll give the warning that it is not necessarily easy to watch, but part of the documentary addresses through direct statements from the partners, who are caretakers of these veterans, the core issue our letter writer has here.
It really is worth watching this film for some practical examples. I’m reluctant to paraphrase here, because what the caretakers have to say about what they needed to do to take care of themselves and be able to connect with their partner is so impactful. Our letter writer should see it for themselves.
Rich: What I found interesting when reading this was that we’ve had letters before from people who found themselves in this situation, and it was completely erotic to them. They loved the caretaking, and it actually opened up a new door of their sex life as a result of this. It just goes to show that there are a lot of different responses to familiar situations.
This also reminded me of the Esther Perel of it all—what she says about proximity being at odds with eroticism. I think this letter is probably a dictionary definition version of this issue. We’re so close, I’m taking care of you, and now it’s just sapped sexual excitement.
Jessica: There’s also a phenomenon that is fairly well documented in women where when their partners require a lot of care, be that medical care or picking their socks up off the floor, they shift from a eroticizing mode to a maternal mode. So one thing that might be useful is focusing on what Carlos can do for himself. And paying attention to when Carlos is doing things for himself and meditating on how he is actually quite capable and autonomous.
Rich: Yes, I think that is the key here. This is all new, and Carlos has not made the full transition back to autonomy and health. So this question might be easier to answer with one’s body the further you get away from the very intense caretaking time. You’ve got to give yourself some time to get that part out of your system so that you can get back into the erotic dynamic. Time is a major factor here.
Jessica: It also depends on Carlos’ approach. If Carlos is like, “Hey, I’d like you to do sex things to me,” that’s going to tie back into the caretaker dynamic. Whereas if Carlos is making erotic overtures of action on his own, that’s probably more likely to hit the eroticism button.
Rich: I almost wonder if a conscious turning of tables when it’s possible would be helpful—for Carlos to say, “Now I’m going to be the caretaker.” It might not. Maybe that dynamic is not going to work for eroticism either way. But maybe him not just taking charge, but actually role playing this shift could turn the tables in such a way that it’s erotic. Maybe our writer needs to be taken care of now.
That could be a major thing to help them heal and reconnect. Give it time and see how it progresses. It’s not a switch that you flip. You can’t just say, “OK, now I want to look at you sexually again.” See if his path back to health does anything to change the situation and the outlook.
Jessica: The last thing that I want to say is that our writer should also give themselves space. So much of their life presumably for the past several months has been about taking care of Carlos. And sex should come from two people or more wanting to have sex with each other. So if there’s any sense of obligation here, don’t get sucked into that and don’t have sex you’re not ready to want yet out of duty.
Rich: Definitely. In that case, I would advise small steps to intimacy—holding each other, holding hands, kissing, that kind of stuff.
Jessica: There’s a technique called sensate focus, which is worth doing some research into. But the short version is that you basically take everything off the table and say: We’re going to connect physically and sensually, but without having anything that we usually think of as sex. And then a little while later you might add in just kissing. Then you do as much kissing as you want to do, but you don’t go any further.
That has this way of restarting desire often for people, but I’m not certain that our writer is at the point currently where sensate focus would be immediately effective. It might be more of use down the road.
More Advice From Slate
I am a recently divorced woman with two daughters. I have been working hard to have a fit body, so I was eager to try out my cute new bikini when I took my daughters to the pool. The problem (at least for some people) is that I am blessed with what is apparently called a “happy trail.”
