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I was ready to give dating one last go before becoming a mum on my own, when I met Chris.
Meeting through a writers’ forum, at first we exchanged messages about the projects we were working on, but our talk soon turned flirty.
Before I knew it, we decided to meet. When he came to London, I saw how affectionate and caring he was – back at my flat after dinner and a show, he tenderly massaged my feet. When he visited again, I couldn’t wait to get back home after dinner, and as soon as we got through the door we were kissing and falling into my bed.
As he took my clothes off, I was desperate for him. He was loving and gentle, but as I reached for his trousers I discovered the excitement I was sure I felt minutes earlier had dissipated.
I admit it was an anticlimax, but I knew it was only natural to be let down by biology the first time you’re intimate with someone new. Chris explained he’d not had sex with his ex for a long time, and for me it had been a bit of a drought too, so I was worried my expectations may have overwhelmed him. We tried again the next morning and, though he made sure I finished, his problem persisted.
My attempts to seduce him were often met by disinterest once he realised his body wasn’t complying, which made me feel rejected.
I tried not to mind as I could see how it was affecting him. He tried to explain that his head was into it, his body was letting him down and, overwhelmed by thoughts and worries, losing himself in the moment became even more difficult. I feared the more we made it into a “thing”, the more it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
My attempts to seduce him were often met by disinterest once he realised his body wasn’t complying, which made me feel rejected. I honestly didn’t think it was about me, or the way he saw me – it was a physical thing that he seemed to have no control over. But I couldn’t help feeling let down when he began to lose interest to even try to get things to work for a little while longer. While I didn’t mind persisting, cuddling, talking dirty, getting on top, using lube, making him watch me touch myself, taking time, surprising him with sexy outfits or flirting in public, I began to sense a defeatist attitude from Chris.
If he could see things weren’t working, he’d say he was tired, and cuddled me to sleep.
In order to take the pressure off being sexual, I fully appreciated the comfort and reassurance I experienced in the relationship. We got on so well, we could talk about everything, we kept laughing and sharing many precious moments beyond just being lovers.
A person is so much more than just their genitals, or their ability to use them to satisfy their partner.
But it was difficult not to see overcoming the erectile dysfunction as a sort of mission to accomplish by any means necessary. We drank a bit, but not too much. I tried to gently seduce him while watching a film on the sofa, to trick his mind into not paying too much attention to the way his body responded. Sometimes this worked up to a point, but when he took his trousers off his erection had disappeared. More than anything, I just wanted him to lose himself and simply ravish me. It wasn’t as though he lacked opportunity, but I think the worry of not being able to perform stopped him from even trying.
Eventually, Chris saw his doctor and was prescribed some medication, but it didn’t solve the problem of getting him into the mood. As our relationship progressed, things started to feel a little bit one-sided. He was tall and strong, yet his confidence seemed affected – virility, after all, is so closely connected to masculinity in society’s definition of what a man should be.
After we broke up, he quickly began seeing someone else. This hurt, especially when it emerged that they faced similar problems in the bedroom. Personally, I would never have left him over the issues he experienced with his sexual performance. A person is so much more than just their genitals, or their ability to use them to satisfy their partner.
I am glad we tried everything we could think of, but I think my own needs took second place – I didn’t want to have to wait until he was snoring to make myself come, and with a future partner I would hope these issues could have been discussed together with a professional.
Chris was not yet 50, and I feel sorry for him if he doesn’t find ways to overcome his problem. I can’t help but feel there was something he didn’t want to open up to me about, but I don’t regret the year we spent together.
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