Sex on Shuffle

Some weeks it’s a symphony, others it’s silence. Both are valid.

Image used with permission from Envato Elements

Most weeks, my sex life has a rhythm. A beat I can count on. Wednesdays are for V, my long-term ENM partner. He comes over in the morning, and we start the day with sex that’s deep, deliberate, and sometimes surprisingly tender. We’ve honed our connection over time. It’s physical, yes, but also ritual. A kind of middle-of-the-week anchor.

More recently, Mondays have become interesting too. G arrives early with strong coffee and a filthy mind. He’s one of my newer lovers, and his energy is electric. Less ritual, more rawness. Our mornings together are shorter, messier, less predictable. They often end with my sheets in the wash and a grin I can’t quite wipe off.

Then there are the unexpected plot twists. A former lover might reappear with a spontaneous proposition. A first date turns into a surprise all-nighter. Some months, there’s a flood. Other months, it’s a trickle. And every month, for paying subscribers, I write about it all. The real stories behind the best encounters. The ones that make me laugh, blush, and sometimes cry.

But this week? Silence. And I chose it.

Sex Lives Have Seasons

If you’ve ever worried that your sex life is too quiet, too chaotic, too dry, too much, or not enough, I want you to hear this: the rhythm of your sex life is allowed to change. Sometimes it runs like clockwork. Sometimes it disappears entirely. That’s not dysfunction. That’s life.

There are seasons. Weeks where your body buzzes with longing. Times when you’re pulled to your partner like gravity. Other weeks, you’re just trying to get enough sleep or survive a rough patch. Maybe you’re newly single, newly heartbroken, or deep in the thick of parenting. Maybe you’re thriving and still not that horny. All of it counts. None of it means you’re broken.

Routine Can Be Sexy. Until It Isn't.

There’s comfort in regularity. Knowing that every Wednesday, V and I will come together for an hour or two of real connection, no performance, no pretense. There’s ease in the familiar. But even that can grow stale if I don't stay present.

G’s unpredictability offsets that. He doesn’t fit into a neat box. Our time together reminds me that sex doesn’t always need a script. There’s room for both. Structure and surprise. Stability and spark. Neither is better. They serve different parts of me.

If you’re in a long-term relationship, you might crave routine or you might resent it. Both reactions are valid. The key is to notice when the pattern feels good, and when it starts to feel like a cage. You don’t have to blow it all up to bring freshness back. Sometimes a small change — new context, new timing, even new language — is enough to shift the energy.

Celibacy as a Power Move

This week, I’m taking a break from it all. I’m in the countryside alone. No lovers, no sex, not even much texting. My kids are with their dad. I brought books, my laptop, and a commitment to stay out of my own way.

I’m calling it a sex fast. Not for punishment. For space. I want to see what happens when I stop prioritising sex for a few days and let my body rest without expectation. It feels weird. I catch myself thinking I should be scheduling something, reaching out, inviting someone over. But then I remember that pleasure isn’t just about climax. Sometimes it’s about quiet. Stillness. Choice.

If you’ve never chosen celibacy, not because you’re afraid, or ashamed, but because you’re curious, it’s worth trying. It’s not a moral high ground. It’s just another way to reset the dial. To hear yourself more clearly. To uncouple your worth from how desirable or desirable-to-others you feel.

Your Sex Life Is Not a Performance

It’s easy to think we’re supposed to be having sex on a regular, measurable basis. Pop culture is full of numbers. Twice a week is “healthy.” Once a month means “trouble.” Skipping it for a few weeks makes you “in a dry spell.”

Here’s what I think (for once): fuck the numbers.

Sex isn’t something you owe yourself or anyone else on a schedule. What matters is how you feel about the rhythm you’re in. If you're content with the pace, then you're doing fine. If you’re not, you get to adjust. There’s no rulebook. Just your body, your truth, and your permission.

I’ll still be tracking my sex life, because, well, data nerd, but as the months roll by I’m less focused on the numbers.

You’re Allowed to Change the Tempo

Sometimes I have sex six times a week (not including masturbation). Sometimes none. Sometimes I’m bursting with desire. Sometimes it’s background noise. That ebb and flow doesn’t scare me anymore. It’s part of how I know I’m living.

You don’t need to keep up with anyone else’s beat. You don’t need to explain dry spells or justify desire. You don’t even need a reason.

Your sex life doesn’t need to be consistent. It needs to be yours.

Love,
Bec 💋