What Happens After You Stop Fucking Like Rabbits?

(A reality check on long-term libido)

You love each other. You’ve built a life together. But somewhere between shared laundry and Sunday night grocery runs… the sex got quieter. Less urgent. Maybe even non-existent.

You used to rip each other’s clothes off. Now you're more likely to ask, "Did you feed the dog?"

Sound familiar?

Class is in session… Let’s talk about what actually happens to libido in long-term relationships- without shame, without sugarcoating, and without pretending that “just spice it up with lingerie” is a solution.

Biologically, you’re not broken

When we first fall in love, our brains are flooded with dopamine (pleasure), norepinephrine (excitement), and oxytocin (bonding). It’s a drug cocktail that makes you obsessed with your partner. That’s the “honeymoon phase,” and it’s biologically designed to wear off.

In long-term cohabiting relationships, testosterone levels can decrease, especially in men. Your brain adapts to the familiar. Novelty fades, and with it, that automatic, spontaneous urge to jump each other’s bones.

This isn’t dysfunction. It’s neurochemistry.

Desire needs something different than love

Leading relationship psychotherapist Esther Perel puts it simply:
Love thrives on closeness. Desire needs a little space.

Love is about safety, intimacy, and routine- building a life, sharing a home, knowing each other deeply.
But desire? It feeds on curiosity, unpredictability, and even just a bit of distance.

So, when the sex slows down, it doesn’t mean your relationship is broken.
It might mean you've gotten closer.

You know each other so well, there’s nothing left to wonder about.
You’re partners, parents, flatmates, co-managers of everything from groceries to grief.

And it’s hard to feel turned on by the same person who just clipped their toenails on the couch.

Perel says: “We want our partner to be familiar and predictable- but also exciting and mysterious. It’s a paradox.”

You’re not doing anything wrong.
You’re just living the tension between comfort and chemistry.

So, how do you keep desire alive?

Esther Perel’s work reminds us that you don’t have to chase the high of the honeymoon phase or try to “get back to how it was.”
Instead, you can create the conditions where desire can grow again, this time, in a new form.

Here’s what she suggests:

• Look at your partner with fresh eyes
  See them outside of the roles they usually play. Watch them doing something they love. Notice what lights them up. Let yourself feel intrigued again.

• Invite novelty- without needing new people
  Novelty doesn’t mean new partners. It means new experiences, new dynamics, new settings. Go somewhere unfamiliar. Try something unexpected. Surprise each other.

• Play with power and mystery
  Let go of being in control all the time. Try switching roles in the bedroom. Take turns leading. Do something that makes you a little nervous- in a good way.

• Shake up the story
  Long-term couples often get stuck in patterns: “You’re the tired one,” “I’m the organiser,” “We don’t have time.”
  Try rewriting that. Be curious, not just comfortable.

Desire doesn’t die in long-term relationships.
But it does need oxygen. And attention.

When you stop chasing spontaneity and start choosing intentional intimacy, you give desire a chance to evolve into something deeply satisfying.

Class dismissed. Until next time…