We Still Have Sex Every Week - Here’s What Actually Keeps It That Way

After a certain amount of time together, people stop asking how you’re still having sex and quietly assume you’re not.

Life gets busy. Work takes over. Kids, routines, and tired evenings creep in. Not because the desire disappears, but because intimacy needs space, and space is usually the first thing to get squeezed out.

I’ve been with Sophie a long time, and we still have sex every week. Not because we’re chasing a number or trying to prove anything. It’s simply something we’ve chosen to protect.

This isn’t a guide or a set of rules. It’s just me being honest about what’s worked for us. What we’ve learned, what surprised us, and why intimacy didn’t disappear when life got louder.

Weekly sex didn’t happen by accident. It didn’t come from one big change either. It came from small, intentional choices that kept curiosity, connection, and closeness part of our everyday life. 

That’s what this is about. 

1. It’s Not About Frequency – It’s About Staying Curious

For a long time, I thought sex was something that either happened naturally or didn’t. If it faded, that was just what long-term relationships looked like.

What I’ve learned is that it’s rarely about how often you have sex. It’s about whether you’re still curious about each other.

Curiosity doesn’t mean constantly chasing new experiences or pushing boundaries. Most of the time, it’s much quieter than that. It’s asking how something feels now, not assuming it still feels the same as it did years ago. It’s noticing changes instead of ignoring them.

When curiosity goes, routine takes over. And routine doesn’t kill desire instantly, it just slowly dulls it. You stop asking questions. You stop checking in. Sex becomes something that either fits into the week or gets postponed until “later”.

For us, staying curious has meant keeping the conversation open, even when it felt unnecessary or a bit awkward. Sometimes that curiosity led to sex. Sometimes it just led to understanding. Both mattered.

Weekly intimacy didn’t come from aiming for a number. It came from staying interested in each other as we changed, physically, emotionally, and mentally.

When curiosity stayed alive, desire followed naturally.

2. Talking About Sex Changed More Than Sex

For a long time, we talked around sex instead of actually talking about it. I assumed I knew what Sophie wanted. She assumed I knew. And like most couples, we filled in the gaps with guesswork.

The truth is, assumptions are quiet relationship killers. Not dramatic enough to cause rows, just enough to slowly create distance.

When we finally started talking properly, it wasn’t some big sit-down conversation. It was small moments. Comments made in passing. Honest answers instead of safe ones. Sometimes awkward. Sometimes uncomfortable. But always real.

Saying things out loud removed a lot of pressure. Once something was spoken, it stopped feeling heavy. It didn’t have to be acted on immediately. It just needed to be understood.

What surprised me most was that those conversations didn’t just improve our sex life. They changed how we felt around each other outside the bedroom too. There was more ease. Less second-guessing. More reassurance.

Talking about sex didn’t make things more complicated. It made everything simpler. We stopped performing, stopped assuming, and started responding to what was actually there.

That shift mattered more than any technique ever could. 

3. New Things Don’t Have to Be Extreme to Matter

When people talk about “trying new things” in a long-term relationship, it often sounds bigger and more dramatic than it needs to be.

For us, it rarely meant huge changes. Most of the time, it was small shifts. Slowing things down. Changing the pace. Paying attention to what feels good now rather than what used to work years ago.

Trying something new didn’t come with an expectation that it had to stick. That took a lot of pressure off. We weren’t adding things to a list or chasing novelty for the sake of it. We were just exploring what felt right in the moment.

Some things became part of our routine. Others didn’t. And we learned pretty quickly that discarding something was just as important as discovering it. Nothing had to be justified or pushed through.

What mattered was the shared experience of trying together. Even when something didn’t land, it still created closeness. It showed trust. It showed willingness.

New things didn’t keep our sex life alive because they were new. They mattered because they reminded us we were still choosing each other, rather than running on autopilot.

4. Sometimes It’s Passionate - Sometimes It’s Tender

One thing I’ve learned about long-term desire is that it doesn’t live in just one lane.

I’ve got a side to me that’s intense, playful, and unapologetically sexual. I like pushing energy, exploring edges, and being fully in my body with Sophie. Some of what we’ve explored together would probably make certain people uncomfortable, and I’m fine with that. It’s part of who I am.

What matters is that it’s always shared. Sometimes Sophie’s completely in that same space. Sometimes she’s not, and that’s just as important. Desire isn’t a constant state, and it shouldn’t be treated like one.

Other times, intimacy is the opposite. Slower. Softer. Deeply connected. Less about intensity and more about closeness. And I genuinely believe that having room for both is what’s kept our sex life alive.

If everything had to be gentle, I’d feel constrained.

If everything had to be intense, it would feel exhausting.

The balance is what works.

We don’t pretend one version of intimacy is more “correct” than the other. Some days we want closeness. Some days we want raw connection. Giving each other permission to move between those spaces, without guilt or expectation, has taken pressure off instead of adding it.

That freedom is a big reason we’re still having sex regularly. Not because we force it, but because neither of us feels boxed into being one version of ourselves.

5. How Sex Clubs Brought Us Closer (In Ways We Didn’t Expect)

When we first talked about sex clubs, it wasn’t as simple as curiosity and excitement. 

Sophie was surprisingly relaxed about it from the start. Open, grounded, and clear about what she felt comfortable with. I was the anxious one. Curious, yes, but guarded, cautious, and very aware of how much trust something like this would demand from me.

Walking into that kind of environment together brings things to the surface quickly. Not just desire, but insecurity, jealousy, and fear of getting it wrong. I realised early on that this wasn’t something I could rush, no matter how intrigued I was by the idea.

That clarity matters. When you say no, it’s respected. In every club we’ve been to, there’s been zero tolerance for pressure. A few people have asked politely over time, and when the answer is no, that’s the end of it. No pushing. No awkward follow-ups. It’s not the free-for-all people often imagine.

Actually relaxing into it took time for me. Months, not weeks. Trust had to grow at my pace, not just on paper. A big part of that came from how different these spaces felt compared to normal nightlife.

We honestly wouldn’t go to a regular club now. The atmosphere is calmer, more respectful, and far more comfortable. You can dress down, dress differently, or just be yourself without judgement. There’s no aggression, no posturing, no edge. You don’t see fights or drama. The only tension you ever notice is between couples who haven’t set clear rules, or haven’t stuck to them.

That reinforced something important for us. Boundaries aren’t optional. They’re the foundation.

Some clubs can feel a bit clicky, but we’ve found where we feel comfortable. We go to Jaydees a lot because the energy, the staff, and the people just feel right. It’s welcoming, respectful, and consistent, which is why we keep going back.

With work, kids, and everyday stress, we don’t chase it constantly. These days, we tend to aim for around once a month. Not as a rule, but as something we protect. It gives us a space away from responsibility where we can reconnect, talk, explore, and just be us again without distraction.

For us, it’s less about what happens and more about what it creates. Time, connection, and shared experience that carries back into our relationship at home.

And this part really matters. Sex clubs are not a fix for a struggling relationship.

We’ve seen couples walk in already fractured, hoping the experience would repair something broken. It rarely does. If trust, communication, or connection aren’t already there, these environments don’t heal cracks. They expose them.

For us, it worked because we went in strong, together, and willing to slow down when needed. It didn’t change who we are as a couple. It deepened the trust we already had, especially for me.

6. Toys Didn’t Replace Intimacy - They Let Us Turn It Up (When We Want To)

I’m not going to pretend we’re subtle all the time. There’s an intense side to our intimacy, and sometimes we enjoy leaning into that energy rather than slowing things down. That’s where toys naturally fit for us. 

We use the Satisfyer Pro a lot. It’s straightforward, powerful in the right way, and does exactly what it’s designed to do. The Lelo Mona 2 G-Spot Massager is another favourite, especially when it’s used alongside touch rather than instead of it. Used gently and with intention, it makes a real difference for her.

Then there’s the one we always take out with us, the Naughty Bits Lit Clit Teenie Weenie Wand. It’s small, discreet, and surprisingly powerful. We’ve got bigger wands at home, but honestly, Sophie doesn’t think they’re as effective. Smaller, more focused wands work better for us, especially when the energy is already high.

In those moments, toys aren’t about romance. They’re about amplifying what’s already there. They heighten the experience and bring an extra layer of intensity, which is part of what keeps things exciting for us.

But this matters. That’s not every time.

When we’re making love, really connecting, toys usually don’t come into it at all. That kind of intimacy doesn’t need anything extra. It’s quieter, closer, and about being fully present with each other.

That contrast is what works for us.

We don’t try to make every experience the same. Some nights are about energy and release. Other nights are about closeness and connection. Having room for both, without guilt or expectation, is what’s kept our intimacy alive long-term.

Toys didn’t replace anything.
They didn’t fill a gap.
They simply gave us another way to enjoy each other when the mood calls for it.

7. We Don’t Aim for a Number – We Aim for Connection

For a long time, I thought consistency in sex meant consistency in frequency. A target. A number. Something you either hit or missed.

That mindset never really worked for us.

What’s worked instead is aiming for connection, not a quota. There’s no pattern, no schedule, and no expectation that intimacy has to look the same day to day. Sometimes it’s sex. Sometimes it’s one of us focusing on the other. Sometimes it’s just closeness, touch, or energy carrying over from the day before.

Because of that, intimacy ends up happening a lot. Often daily. Not because we’re forcing it, but because neither of us feels boxed into a routine.

Some periods are more intense than others. When that energy is there, it can linger for days. Desire builds, carries over, and feeds itself. Other times it softens, slows down, and becomes more about connection than momentum. Both are part of the same rhythm.

What we’ve learned is that sex stays alive when it isn’t treated like a task or a target. When intimacy is allowed to move naturally, sometimes intense, sometimes gentle, sometimes spontaneous, it doesn’t fade. It evolves.

Ironically, once we stopped chasing numbers, closeness became more consistent. Not because we were trying harder, but because there was no pressure to perform or keep score.

That’s what’s worked for us. Choosing connection daily, in whatever form it takes, and trusting that desire will follow when it’s given space.

8. Creating a Space That’s Just Ours

One other thing that’s made a real difference for us is having a space that’s just ours.

It didn’t start out as anything dramatic. Like most couples, we began by making small changes in the bedroom. A bit more privacy. A bit more intention. We kept things discreet and contained, so intimacy had its place without bleeding into everyday life.

Over time, that idea grew. What was originally meant to be a practical space turned into something personal. When plans changed, we realised we could create somewhere that didn’t feel like the rest of the house at all.

That’s how our cabin came about.

I built the bed myself and designed the room so we could stay there overnight if we wanted. Soft lighting around the ceiling, a warmer atmosphere, and a layout that immediately shifts your headspace. Once we’re in there, it doesn’t feel like home in the usual sense, and that’s exactly why it works.

The room carries a deliberate energy. It reflects our adventurous side, but more importantly it reflects intention. When we step into that space, we’re choosing each other fully, without distraction. No phones. No rushing. No background noise from everyday life.

Not everyone can, or needs to, do this. A separate room or cabin isn’t the point. What matters is creating some kind of boundary between intimacy and everything else. That might be a bedroom, a locked door, or simply protected time without interruption.

For us, building that space didn’t create intimacy. It protected it.

9. What Actually Keeps Sex Happening Long-Term

If I strip everything back, none of this comes down to tricks, toys, places, or experiences on their own.

What’s kept sex alive for us long-term is intention.

We talk, even when it’s awkward.
We stay curious, even when life gets busy.
We allow intimacy to look different depending on mood, energy, and timing.

We don’t force intensity, and we don’t avoid it either.

Some days are raw and full-on.
Some days are slow and deeply connected.
Some days are just about closeness, touch, or energy carrying over.

Nothing is boxed in. Nothing is off-limits to talk about. And nothing is expected to look the same every time.

We don’t treat sex as something that should “just happen”, and we don’t treat it like a job to tick off either. We protect it by choosing each other, again and again, without pressure or rules about how it should look.

The clubs didn’t fix anything.
The toys didn’t replace anything.
The space didn’t create something that wasn’t already there.

They all worked because the foundation was solid to begin with.

What really matters is trust, honesty, and the freedom to be yourself, without fear of judgement from your partner or from yourself. When that’s in place, intimacy doesn’t disappear with time. It evolves.

That’s what’s kept it happening for us. Not perfectly. Not predictably. But consistently, in a way that feels real, alive, and ours.

Closing Thoughts

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that intimacy doesn’t survive on autopilot. But it doesn’t need forcing either.

It survives when you give it attention, space, and permission to change. When you stay honest with each other. When you stop trying to make sex look a certain way and start letting it fit who you are now, not who you were years ago.

What works for us won’t look the same for everyone, and it shouldn’t. Some couples will never step outside their bedroom. Some will never touch a toy. Some won’t want to explore anything new at all, and that’s fine.

The point isn’t copying what anyone else does.

It’s choosing connection over assumption.
Curiosity over routine.
And closeness over pressure.

Everything else grows from there.