You love him. You really do. He’s loyal, he tries, he even initiates. But when it comes to sex… something’s off. You find yourself zoning out mid-thrust, watching the ceiling like it’s more interesting than what’s happening between your legs. You fake it, smile, kiss him goodnight, and secretly wonder if this is your life now. Predictable. Uninspired. Silent.
The truth hurts: your husband is bad at sex. And the worst part? You don’t know how to tell him without turning your bedroom into a therapy office—or breaking him completely.
Let’s be clear. Bad sex doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. It doesn’t even mean he’s selfish. A lot of good men are just stuck in performance mode. They learned their moves from porn, repeated what worked once, and never evolved. He thinks he’s doing his job. Meanwhile, you’re craving something primal, something sensual, something more than “three pumps and a missionary sigh.”
But how do you tell him? You’ve probably tried. Maybe you hinted. “Softer?” “Slower?” “Can we try something different tonight?” And maybe he got defensive, confused, or shut down completely. That’s because, for a lot of men, sexual performance is identity. You’re not just criticising his technique—you’re brushing up against his worth. That’s why most women stay silent. Or worse… keep faking it.
But faking it is betrayal in slow motion. You’re not protecting his feelings. You’re preserving bad habits. You’re teaching him that what he’s doing works, when it doesn’t. And over time? You start resenting him. Or yourself. Or both.
So how do you break the cycle without breaking the man?
Here’s what worked.
You stop correcting him—and start inviting him into your fantasy. You don’t say, “You’re doing it wrong.” You say, “I read about this really hot thing and I want to try it with you.” You don’t complain about routine. You turn it into a game. “Can I show you what I want with no talking—just touch?” You make it playful. You make it curious. You make it ours.
You introduce tools. Not as punishment. As enhancement. A deck of “touch me like this” cards that guide him to explore your body with fresh eyes. A blindfold session where you take over and let him feel what it’s like to follow, not lead. A shared ritual where you “review” each other’s favourite moves with laughter, wine, and absolutely no pressure. You give him a new script—and the freedom to experiment without fear.
And if things are really bad? If you’re genuinely unsatisfied and the intimacy is slipping away? Then you have the talk. Not during or after sex, but when you’re calm. Loving. Connected. You say, “I love being close to you. And I want to explore ways we can grow even more together. Even if that means relearning some things.” That line doesn’t bruise. It opens.
Because at the end of the day, what you want isn’t just better sex. You want to feel seen. Desired. Ravished. You want to stop pretending. You want to stop feeling guilty for needing more.
And you can have all of that.
You just have to stop waiting for him to figure it out—and start guiding the journey without shame, ego, or apology.
He’ll thank you.
You’ll moan for real.
And the bedroom will never feel silent again.