Life is funny. Sometimes sh*t happens and we don’t understand why. It can take years to come to terms with something. I am now at that place where I can confidently open up about this experience, setting my ego, pride and embarrassment aside.

This occurred a few years ago, so time has healed all as they say.

When I was in my mid 20s, I was an OK looking girl. I was actually a model at the time. I would consider myself to be above average looking but kind of ‘girl next door’. Take from that what you will.

Up until that point I had enough interest in me from guys and sex was never a problem. N-E-V-E-R. All the previous boyfriends I had were interested in me and attracted to me. Sex was normal. Part of my life.

This new boyfriend seemed to want to muck around with me, have fun with me, but would never sleep with me.

At first I didn’t want to break it off for such a superficial reason, after all I didn’t know the exact reason why. But Friday and Saturday nights passed. I stayed over… and lo and behold… nothing would happen.

We were intimate with each other in the sense that we held hands and acted like a couple, but when it came to doing the deed? Nup. Wouldn’t happen.

After two months had passed, I broached the topic with him as sensitively as I could. He said that he liked me too much and was scared that he would ‘lose interest’ if he slept with me too soon. He hinted that it would happen in the next couple of months.

A little baffled by his reasoning, I tried to understand. So in a nutshell he didn’t want sex with me because I’m too likeable? What? But surely eventually I would have to sleep with him if we were to move the relationship forward (i.e get married).

I found this reasoning to be quite endearing. So I left it alone.

Three months passed us by and… well… nothing. While I didn’t define our relationship by whether we had sex there were just ample opportunities where it could have happened and it… didn’t. Kissing lead to nothing. My first moves didn’t amount to anything (shock horror! for the first time in my young adult life).

It started to make me feel quite insecure. Why wasn’t he sleeping with me? Was there something wrong with me? Did I smell? Was he a closet homosexual? Did he have something wrong downstairs? I didn’t care that he wasn’t sleeping with me but my mind just wanted the logic behind it. By now ample time had passed, we were very comfortable with each other. It just didn’t add up. Something didn’t add up.

After a bit of time, I brought up the topic again. This time I asked whether he wanted to tell me something? Whether he wasn’t attracted to me? Was there some other health reason? He said it was none of those things and promised me that it was ‘definitely’ going to happen.

I started to get fed up. Again, it wasn’t about the sex, I just wanted to know why. I suggested that we should perhaps break up on the assumption that he wasn’t into me. Every time it got to this conclusion, he had a way of convincing me otherwise. He would beg and plead that he liked me and that we shouldn’t break up and that he ‘just didn’t feel like it’. He was a good talker, but didn’t walk the walk.

Now to be honest by this stage I started to become quite suspicious… Did he have any sex drive at all? Was he cheating on me? I am ashamed to admit I did manage to go through the history on his computer and found images of women that he had kept, images that he browsed late at night. Coincidence? Or evidence that he definitely had a sex drive but was keeping it from me. (Stop pretending you’re not a stalker – a lot of us girls could be detectives so no judgement please).

He wanted to plan a holiday with me and said that it would be the perfect opportunity to *cough* make amends. We went on the holiday and after two weeks nothing had happened… and that’s when I pulled the plug on the relationship. He didn’t have to tell me. I put two and two together. He simply wasn’t attracted to me and there was no point in our relationship continuing.

Months after the break up, he finally mustered the courage to admit the reason was that he wasn’t attracted to me anymore. (Although funnily enough, he had attempted to crack on to me when we weren’t together). Apparently I’m way more attractive when he can’t have me.

I learnt a few things about men from this experience. Firstly, they are not the sex obsessed maniacs everyone makes them out to be.

Secondly, this wasn’t about my attractiveness or lack of, it was about him. Sometimes men are not attracted to us and guess what? Life goes on.

Was I hurt? Yes. But plenty of fish in the sea.

The other thing I learnt is that the emphasis on sex in a relationship can sometimes be overrated. You can happily coexist without a whole lot of sex (although, in my case some would have been nice).

Have you ever been concerned about sex in your relationship? Tell us in the comments!

Want more Mamamia stories? Sign up to our newsletters and get our best stories straight into your inbox.