When Couples Get Stuck

Sparks flew from the first moment Joey and Maria met at a mutual friend’s party. Their physical attraction and chemistry were undeniable. That evening, they lost track of time in deep and thrilling conversation. By morning, each believed they had found their special someone. Dating confirmed they shared similar values and interests. Pouring out their inner worlds to each other made them feel safe and seen. And the sex was great!

Like most of us, Joey and Maria’s relationship is a roller-coaster journey. Now, 14 years into their marriage, they still love each other, no question, but their emotional and sexual connection has frayed. With the stress of a mortgage, two careers, and three children, not to mention coaching and community involvement, neither of them has the bandwidth to give each other the attention they once did. The sexual fire and deep emotional sharing that once kept Joey and Maria securely connected have been sidelined, and it’s taking a toll.

Sex, which was once always hot, is now frequently lukewarm, if it happens at all. And their levels of desire have become increasingly out of sync. There was a time when they never could have imagined arguing about sex, but these days, it’s a regular area of conflict. At this point, they find themselves asking: How did something that once felt natural, spontaneous, and exciting become so constrained, routine—and, at times, even boring?

Things have become shaky outside the bedroom, too. Sometimes, Joey and Maria are on the same page; they still talk and laugh together. But other times, an argument ignites out of nowhere and gets out of control, leaving them both feeling hurt and alone. These conflicts are gaining frequency and are increasingly difficult to bounce back from.

Even though Joey and Maria love each other, and they’re both committed to the marriage, the distance in their relationship is growing. Privately, each is starting to fear they may never find their way back to the connection they once had. They feel rejection where they crave reassurance.

Two People, One Problem

To Maria, it feels like all Joey wants from her anymore is sex. She still finds Joey attractive and fit, unlike some of her girlfriends’ husbands who have let themselves go. And he is pretty attentive to her in bed. But she often finds herself not in the mood. Is the problem just her low libido? she wonders.

Regardless, the constant pressure to match his sexual appetite feels overwhelming. She believes Joey just has two modes: distracted by work or frustrated that she doesn’t want sex. Either way, she feels disconnected from him. Worse, he reaches for her body but not her heart.

But now, who has time for romance with their hectic lives? And if a date happens, she plans it, calls the sitter, and gets the restaurant reservation. Joey is a loving father, but the weight of the childcare falls mostly on Maria’s shoulders, even though she also works part-time as a dental hygienist. By the end of the day, when Joey is eager for sex, Maria is aching for sleep.

Joey’s bids for sex make Maria feel even more disconnected. How can he possibly think I’d want to have sex after he’s been so absent? she asks herself. Is he that clueless about how much I need his support? About how lonely I feel? Maybe he just doesn’t care. She complains to her friends about Joey’s incessant need, saying, “I don’t have sex with strangers.”

To Joey, it seems like Maria doesn’t want sex anymore. He’s baffled. Before they got married, and even for a while afterward, he and Maria needed each other—frequently.

But once the kids came along, she wanted sex with him less and less. Joey had heard from older friends that sex inevitably burns out a few years into marriage, but he never would’ve believed it would happen to them. He can’t understand why it’s not important to her, too. She used to initiate, but now it’s been years.

Outside the bedroom, Joey feels unsure of how to make Maria happy, but in bed, he knows exactly how to please her. When she lets him, he feels close to her and, for a change, feels like he’s a successful husband. Sure, he misses having frequent orgasms. But more than simple release, Joey misses the intimacy afterward—the feelings of closeness and connection. He doesn’t just want sex, like she sometimes accuses him; he wants sex with her.

Feeling discouraged and defeated, Joey tries to focus on work and hopes that, someday, things will go back to the way they used to be and Maria will want to have sex with him again.

How It Goes Wrong

It’s a Friday afternoon, and Joey comes home a bit early. He’s riding high after landing an important new client that morning, and he’s been looking forward to sharing the good news and excitement with Maria.

Maria has been looking forward to seeing Joey, too. She’s had an upsetting day and wants to share her troubles and feel comforted. Relieved to see him come through the door earlier than expected, she immediately begins pouring out the painful events of the day.

“I finally had time to grab lunch with the girls today; Meredith was as competitive as ever. She talked about Antonio’s recent raise and how they can afford private school now. Then, she made all these not-so-subtle comments about how I look in my new sundress.” Dripping with sarcasm, Maria mimics her friend: “‘It’s so cute! It fits you well, too. Where did you get it? Do you think they would have it in my size?’ God, you know she’s a size two?! She might as well have called me fat.”

Maria’s frustration is alive and growing. Suddenly Joey’s own body goes on alert. He recognizes this conversation pattern, where they start off talking about someone else, but somehow, it always ends with her getting mad at him. After so many previous fights, he knows exactly what not to do: No fixing. No advice. No telling her to stop hanging out with Meredith if she is such a bitch. This conversation is a potential minefield where Joey only knows what not to say. Since he’s not exactly sure what a safe response should be—he stops responding at all.

Shark Music Plays

When our attachment feels threatened—even by something as small as a partner’s glazed eyes or a forced pivot away from our feelings—the nervous system fires an alarm before the thinking brain has a chance to weigh in. Researchers call this “shark music”: the body’s background score of dread, priming us for danger before we’ve consciously registered why.

As she recounts her interaction with Meredith, Maria keeps talking, relieved to be sharing and hoping Joey will reassure her—tell her that no matter what Meredith says—he thinks she looks great. But for Joey, the shark music has started to play.

As Maria’s intensity escalates, Joey’s dread deepens. Am I supposed to just sit here? There doesn’t seem to be anything he could say that would help; he stays silent. Pressure builds in his head, his ears clog like he’s on a plane, and her words blur together. Inside, his stress rises; outside, he tries to look calm. Still in the afterglow of his good news, he doesn’t want to get dragged into her negative mood. Finally, in response to her expectant look, he asks with a forced smile, “So was the new restaurant you went to any good?”

His hopeful pivot toward positivity shatters.

“What? Who cares about the restaurant?” snaps Maria. “Were you even listening to me?” Maria can’t believe what she’s hearing; how could Joey not see how upset she is?

Joey freezes: “Uh . . .” Just as he feared, her anger makes a U-turn toward him. Sometimes it happens before he even opens his mouth. Anxiously he stammers, “Yes, I’m listening . . . Uh, it sounds like you’re not getting along with your friends again.”

“Oh my God! Seriously? How am I supposed to get along with someone so petty and insulting?” Maria cries. “I had a feeling you’d take her side. Maybe you think I’m fat, too!” Her voice rises: “I should never tell you what really bothers me. You’re never interested! All you care about is work and yourself!”

Joey is flabbergasted. He feels attacked and trapped: When he tries to listen, he gets it wrong. Shrugging, his parting words are: “This is not worth arguing about. You just need to figure this out with your friends.”

Walking toward the stairs, Joey can’t understand how his good intentions ended in such a disaster. Again. What was I supposed to say? I can never win with her! Why do I even try? Can’t she see I don’t want to fight? Joey is frustrated, confused, and deeply disappointed. He’d been so excited to be home early, to share his good news. He’d pictured celebration, laughter—probably sex—but instead he’s retreating to the basement, alone. The whole pattern always feels so unfair.

As Maria watches Joey walk away, she feels doubly injured. Not only does he not understand the drama with her friend but now he’s also making everything worse by suggesting she’s in the wrong—and then leaving her alone. Her chest aches.

When she lost her older sister, Michelle, to breast cancer in college, she lost her best friend and confidant. Now Joey is mostly who she turns to for support. But emotion isn’t a language he speaks fluently; when she reaches for him, he’s never there the way Michelle was.

Replaying the fight in her head, Maria insists she began with good intentions. She wants to share her day—isn’t that what couples are supposed to do? But then she sees Joey’s eyes glaze just as she gets into the details. It feels like everything important to her bores him. What she needed was so simple: for him to tell her she looked hot and that Meredith was full of herself. Why couldn’t he just be reassuring?

Missing Michelle is a constant ache, but right now grief burns a hole in her heart. Her sister would have understood Meredith and comforted her about Joey. Facing that pain, Maria realizes her loneliest moments lately are not when she’s alone but when she’s talking to Joey.

Trying to Repair

Later in the evening, the rift still obvious, Joey racks his brain for a way to overcome their stifled conversation and silence. He hates it when he can’t find the right words and hurts Maria. He knows Maria misses her sister, and he wishes he could be the one to give her what she needs—her man, the guy who can help her when she’s down. If only he didn’t get so nervous when she talks about her problems. He hates the way this afternoon ended—just as much as Maria does.

As Joey lies there, struggling with how to reconnect, he wants to reach out and comfort her with touch. It is so much simpler than the words he messes up. For Joey, touch is love in action—the thing he craves when he feels lonely and disconnected. Lying in bed, his instincts tell him to pull Maria into his arms. He hopes a hug will soften the distance, maybe even lead to more. As he imagines it, his desire and confidence grow.

He rolls toward Maria. Gently touching her shoulder, he whispers, “Baby, are you awake?”

Maria’s voice cuts sharp. “Are you serious? You want sex after not talking to me all evening?”

Confused, Joey freezes. Somehow, he always fucks things up. “Hon, I just want to comfort you,” he protests.

“Comfort me, huh? I know what your shoulder touch means—it means you want more than comforting! Could you stop touching me?” Maria moves closer to her edge of the bed.

She’s been hurting all evening, and now it’s worse. To her, Joey just wants her body; her troubles and insecurities don’t matter. Whenever she needs him, he disappears. How could he think she’d want sex now, after he showed no interest in her feelings? She feels as far away from him as ever.

Frustrated and shocked after feeling briefly hopeful, Joey flings back defensively, “Right, you don’t want me to touch you, fine! I wasn’t even trying for sex; I know you never want it anyway. And that’s a problem you never acknowledge.”

Maria doesn’t respond.

Joey’s mind races. I was trying to reach you; I wasn’t being selfish. And is it selfish to want to make love to your wife? Why is Maria so cold?

He’d imagined reconnection—holding each other, falling asleep in each other’s arms, waking up happy. But instead, waves of rejection and hopelessness wash over him. She never prioritizes his needs; everything is about the kids.

Panic rises in his chest; maybe it’s all his fault. He wonders if Maria isn’t attracted to him anymore, if the sex isn’t good for her, if he’s a lousy lover. The harder he tries to block out the anxious thoughts in his head, the more upset he feels.

Finally, he retreats into sleep to escape the frantic worries. Both are making meaning of their partner’s actions (incorrectly), and both are left angry, hurt, and misunderstood. Lying in the same bed, which should offer deep intimacy and pleasure, they feel miles apart.

They sleep poorly. In the morning, the rush of a hectic routine leaves no room to talk. It’s almost a relief to be busy, to avoid bumping into each other and accidentally reigniting the fight. Yet beneath the surface, each feels apologetic and makes small peace offerings: She cooks his favorite dinner, he suggests the romantic series she’d wanted to watch. They reconnect but don’t repair. The conflict is swept under the rug, like so many before—and both know it will return.

So why does this conflict happen even with their love, connection, and attraction? Their fear tells them the answers are pretty straightforward: They just have mismatched sex drives and different emotional needs. They don’t want the same things.

Conflict Occurs in Predictable Cycles

None of us have perfect marriages; differences are always present if we are authentic and real with each other. Gentle, honest engagement with conflict can help partners know each other more deeply. Even in “good enough” marriages, problems tend to repeat . . . and repeat. We get locked into power struggles where no one wins. Couples often describe being stuck in the same fight for years. Unrepaired fights pile up like emotional debt. Because feelings and behaviors are linked between partners, we call these negative cycles. Think of negative cycles like tug-of-war. Two people are at opposing ends of the rope. When one partner is threatened, they pull away. The problem is, this pulls all the negative energy from their partner towards them. When the other partner gets anxious that their needs won’t get met, they push—they pursue, move toward. And we all know what pushing on a rope gets us—nothing. In fact, the more they push, the limper the connection between them becomes.

Each partner’s reaction triggers the other’s survival system—fight, flight, sometimes freeze—making the conflict feel hopeless. These “protective positions” often trace back to childhood, where we first learned what connection and protection looked like.

This is exactly the case with Joey and Maria. Each is convinced the other holds the solution: Joey believes all would be solved if Maria increased her libido. Maria believes Joey just needs to be a more consistent, supportive listener.

For both of them, this other-focused perspective misses a crucial truth: Every action sparks a reaction. What we don’t see when our partner hurts us is that they may be reacting to an earlier hurt from us—one we’ve forgotten or never noticed. We feel the current wound as the source of the problem, but for our partner the origin runs further back.

When we begin to understand the reasons behind our partner’s reactions, the rhythms of the relationship suddenly become clearer. That clarity gives us the chance to practice new ways of responding. And with practice, the disconnection of a negative cycle can be replaced by the safety and closeness of a positive one.

If Maria and Joey’s conflict feels familiar, you’re not alone. To build brave love and great sex, we have to step back. Clarifying the cycle between them empowers change. The cycle is the real enemy—not Maria, not Joey. It separates them, blocking caregiving right when they’re hurting and longing for closeness.

To break a cycle, we first have to understand what drives it, so we don’t keep missing each other when it matters most. And naming the real enemy—clearly, together—is the first act of brave love.

Excerpted from Brave Love, Great Sex by Dr. Laurie Watson and George Faller, LMFT, published by Tarcher, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2026 by Laurie Watson, PhD and George Faller, LMFT.