As much as everyone seems to love sex, you’ll often hear people tell you that it shouldn’t be a dealbreaker in an otherwise happy relationship. I held that same view for a long time — until I found myself in a loving relationship that involved some of the worst sex of my life. I held off on breaking up with my now-ex for way too long, but now that I’m single again, this is why I have no regrets about ending the relationship over bad sex:
- Sex is an important part of a romantic relationship. Sex is to a relationship what sugar is to a cake: it’s not necessary, but the final product is going to suck without it. Some people like to make you feel shallow for making sex a huge priority in your relationship, but if you enjoy getting laid, it’s fine to admit that it IS a huge priority. If it’s bad, then all you have is an awkward friendship.
- I was growing resentful. Even though it was neither my fault or his that the it was so bad, I couldn’t help but feel bitter over just how terrible my sex life had become. I was jealous of everyone from TV characters to my best friends because I felt like everyone was having better sex than me (not that it was too difficult). It wasn’t healthy, but I was determined to hold on to the relationship because I loved him. If only I’d realized earlier on that letting go would have been better for both of us.
- It couldn’t be fixed. There are lots of things that can be fixed in the bedroom, but bad chemistry isn’t one of them. We tried everything to make it better, but in the end, we realized that our only two options were to either accept that we’d be having horrible sex for the rest of our lives or break up and find people who were better suited for us.
- It was a symptom of something bigger. Our incompatibility might have been most obvious in the bedroom, but over time, I began to see that it wasn’t just our hormones that didn’t get along — WE were bad for each other as human beings. The arguments that resulted from the bad sex we were having proved that we couldn’t communicate well. We began to see that regardless of how many orgasms we gave each other, we just weren’t meant to be.
- We were both too young to have bad sex. We wanted to be together forever at the time, but doing that would mean wasting our most attractive and energetic years struggling to get through what should be a fun activity. It wasn’t fair for either of us to go through something like that, and now that we’re single again, we’re free to have all the amazing sex we want.
- It was causing fights. When the only person you’re “allowed” to sleep with can’t sexually satisfy you, it’s normal to get annoyed. That annoyance built up over time and seeped into other aspects of our relationship. Before we knew it, we could barely spend an hour with each other without ending up in a screaming match. It might have started out as a sexual problem, but eventually, it turned into something much bigger.
- It ate away at my self-confidence. My boyfriend was supposed to enjoy having sex with me, so when I got the vibe that he viewed sleeping with me as a chore instead of something he liked, it made me feel disgusting. I knew that it wasn’t a rational thought — I also kind of dreaded having sex with him, and it had nothing to do with how he looked. But still, I had a hard time listening to logic, and eventually, I knew I had to get out of the relationship before I started to hate myself.
- I developed a wandering eye. I’ve never been and never will be the cheating type, but I’ll admit that after months and months of hating sex with my own boyfriend, I started to fantasize about being with other people. Sometimes it was just a stranger I saw in a cafe, but other times, I caught myself lightly flirting with people I knew. I never did anything I wouldn’t have done around my boyfriend, but the thoughts behind my actions were enough to prove to me that I shouldn’t be in this relationship anymore.
- Eventually, we quit having sex altogether. That’s what happens when you hate having sex with your partner: after a while, you just stop rather than forcing yourself to keep doing something you dread. It didn’t happen overnight — we’d go a week without it, then a month, and then before we knew it, we’d gone half a year without taking things further than kissing. If it sounds sad, I assure you that living with it was much worse.
- I wasn’t happy. This alone was truly the only reason I needed to leave. I’d spent so much of my time telling my friends that their happiness was the most important thing in a relationship, that if they weren’t happy, they’d be better off single. Regardless of how shallow others might perceive me, I knew that I had to take my own advice. It was hard to break away from someone I loved so much, but after I did, both of us ended up much happier than we’d been when we were together.