I haven’t had sex with my husband for months. I’ve finally admitted it — okay, to a complete stranger — but it feels good. We’re happily married, work hard and have hectic social lives, but we don’t find time for each other where it really matters: in bed. The first couple of years were great, but, as with many parents of young children, life runs away, then, suddenly, it’s been months. My problem is, I’m scared because it has been so long. I do fancy him, and we cuddle and kiss, but I usually go to bed first. If we go to bed together, I wait for him to make the first move, and he waits for me, and soon we’re arguing about the fact that both of us want to make love, but neither will make the first move. I sometimes imagine him telling me he has had an affair — and who could blame him? Friends don’t talk about their sex lives, but I’m sure they do it morethan us. I worry we’ll end up in a sexless marriage, but I don’t know how to get back into the swing without feeling it’s me who does all the work.

I honestly don’t think everyone is having more sex than you, particularly if they have young children: we all know they’re the greatest passion-killers in the known universe. So I’d stop worrying about that. All that matters is what’s right for the two of you. Obviously, a sexless marriage isn’t right, and that’s the perfect place to start: on a note of optimism. You both want sex. Great. You’re not having it. Not so great.

Think of it this way. Sex is a habit. It’s a good habit, but it’s a habit nonetheless — and, once you get out of the habit, it’s hard to get going again. Talking to each other about the things that matter (fears, worries, feelings) is another good habit. Once you get out of that habit, it’s equally hard to get going again.

That’s because both habits are about intimacy. Generally, it’s not so much a lack of sex as the inability to discuss it that ends up being the problem. For once, however, I don’t recommend talking it through — at least, not immediately. The trouble with talking about why you’re not having sex is that you rarely end up talking about why you’re not having sex. Instead, the discussion about who doesn’t make the first move turns into an argument about who always picks up little Johnny from the playschool and ends up in a row. The great thing about sex is that, afterwards, you feel so close, you couldn’t care less who picked up little Johnny from the playschool. In fact, sod little Johnny. Post-sex, closeness and intimacy allow you to talk sensibly and kindly about the resentments that led you to not have sex in the first place.

The problem with resentments is that they build in our mind until they’re as real as any physical obstacle. And the tragedy is that, for the most part, they are built on some careless infraction (which the other party may not even be aware of) or some belief about a right or wrong way of doing things (which the other person doesn’t even know about).

Here’s one, from your letter: “It’s me who does all the work.”

Buried in those words are volumes of resentment. They seem to imply that you feel you do all the work in the relationship. Or perhaps you unconsciously feel that men should always be the sexual initiators and your husband is not doing his “work”. He, on the other hand, may feel resentful that it’s always up to him to initiate sex, or he may have felt sexually rejected in the past, when the children were babies. I’m wondering, too, why you say you wouldn’t blame him if he had an affair. Surely, if the sexual impasse were coming from both sides, he would be totally blameworthy? That makes me wonder if you feel guilty in some way, or feel it’s you who has been withholding?

Honestly, I don’t know. I’m just trying to read between the lines — which, I suspect, is what the two of you are also doing, and coming up with the wrong conclusions. It seems the best thing you can do is break through the barrier, have sex and, in that lovely postcoital glow, gently put right any misunderstandings.

Okay, so that does mean you have to make the first move, and I know it feels really difficult. Look at it this way: you say you don’t want a sexless marriage, but you don’t want to be the one who makes the first move.

Well, somebody has to. It seems to me that, in order not to have the first, you have to do the second.

As for being scared, there’s only one way of getting past that. Be brave and be bold. Just say: “I love you. You’re gorgeous. I really want to shag your brains out.”

A good result is almost certainly guaranteed.

If you have a relationship question for Sally, e-mail sally.brampton@ sunday-times.co.uk. In case of publication, names will be withheld. We’re sorry, but Sally cannot answer letters personally

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