Why I Was Putting More Pressure Than I Thought
This article is part of a series. To read the first part, click on the following link: My Wife Didn’t Desire Me
I thought I was patient.
Really.
I told myself I never pushed. That I respected her “no.” That I was an understanding husband. Modern. Not insistent.
In my head, I was almost exemplary.
The reality was a little different.
I Wanted Reassurance, Not Just Sex
Looking back, I think what I was really seeking was reassurance.
Sex had become proof. Confirmation that everything was okay. That I was still a desirable man. That I mattered.
When she desired me, I felt solid.
When she turned me down-even gently-I felt fragile. Almost useless.
I didn’t phrase it that way. I talked about “needs,” about “connection,” about “lack.”
But deep down, it was my ego that was trembling.
I needed her to look at me with desire to feel worthy.
And that’s a heavy thing for someone else to carry.
The Kind of Frustration That Changes the Air in a Room
I wasn’t aggressive. I didn’t push heavily.
But I changed.
One refusal, and my energy shifted. I became quieter. More distant. Less affectionate. As if I were withdrawing something.
I told myself I had the right to be disappointed. And that’s true. I did.
But I didn’t see that my disappointment was turning into pressure.
One evening, she said no. Simply. She was exhausted. I turned over in bed without saying anything. The next morning, I was cold. Not deliberately. Just closed off. She looked at me and said, “You see? That’s what puts pressure on me.”
That sentence unsettled me.
Because I didn’t want to be the one who creates pressure. I didn’t want to become that kind of husband.
And yet.
A Constant Expectation
I think there was also a constant expectation in my gaze.
An invisible calculation.
How many days has it been?
Is tonight possible?
Sometimes I touched her with an intention that was too obvious-even when I thought I was being subtle.
She told me later: “I felt like every gesture could turn into a request.”
It hurt to hear that.
Because for me, physical contact was natural. But for her, it had become loaded.
Loaded with expectation.
Loaded with risk.
Misplaced Masculinity
I have to be honest.
There was also something about masculinity.
I didn’t walk around thinking, “I need to prove I’m a man.” But somewhere, it was there.
Fewer intimate moments. Less initiative from her. And I felt diminished.
As if my value was dropping.
It sounds foolish when I write it. I know.
But when you’re in it, you don’t think so clearly.
I confused performance with love. Frequency with the strength of the relationship.
I created an equation where there wasn’t one.
She Had the Right to Suffer Too
There was an important moment in our conversations.
She told me she felt like she was constantly failing. That she felt she was never “enough.” Not available enough. Not desirous enough. Not spontaneous enough.
And that’s when I understood something.
I saw myself as the one who was suffering the most. The one deprived. The one making efforts.
But she was suffering too.
Not from the lack of sex.
From the weight of not being able to meet my expectations.
And on my side, I pretended I was fine. I minimized my frustration during the day. I played strong.
When in reality, I had the right to say that it hurt. Without accusation. Without blame. Just to say that it affected me.
She eventually understood that I shouldn’t carry that alone. That I wasn’t just “obsessed.” That I was wounded.
But I also understood that the way I expressed that wound was hurting her too.
The Invisible Pressure
The pressure wasn’t in harsh words.
It was in the silences.
In the sighs.
In the “it’s fine” that meant the opposite.
I thought I was being dignified. In reality, I was tense.
And desire doesn’t grow under tension.
I believed that if I stopped asking for anything, she would eventually come back on her own.
But the atmosphere stayed heavy.
Because she felt that I was waiting.
And I felt that she was wary.
What I Had to Accept
I had to accept that my need was legitimate.
But that it didn’t give me the right to create a debt.
I had to accept that desire cannot be negotiated.
That it cannot be sparked through guilt.
And above all, that my frustration was not a weapon.
I didn’t become perfect after that realization.
I still get disappointed sometimes.
I still doubt.
But I try to make sure my gaze doesn’t turn into a constant demand.
Because I understood something essential: you can suffocate someone without ever raising your voice.
And without meaning to, I was suffocating the very thing I was trying to bring back.
Marc
My name is Marc. I’m 42 years old. I’ve been married for 12 years. I have two young children. And I’m a normal man who suffered deeply from no longer feeling desired by his wife.After years of feeling like I was wandering through a desert, I can finally say that things are better. And I’d like to share what I’ve learned from that experience.
This text was originally written in French. It was then translated to be readable in your language.
If you would also like to share a life story or experience with us, feel free to contact us!