Hello Pleasure Activists,

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There was a time in my life when I thought my body was trying to tell me something I did not want to hear.

 

I could love someone deeply. I could feel safe. I could feel partnered in the ways that matter most. And yet, when we would go to have sex, my body did not respond with the same urgency, the same hungry wetness, the same electric pull that I felt in new connections.

 

I remember lying there quietly wondering if something was broken.

 

If this meant I was with the wrong long-term partners.

 

If this meant I was fundamentally incapable of sustaining desire in long-term relationships.

 

If my pussy knew something my mind was too afraid to admit.

 

And because I did not yet understand the neuroscience of habituation, I made meaning out of sensation.

 

I followed the wettest pull.

 

I oriented my life around where my body felt the most alive, the most turned on, the most charged with erotic energy. I thought that if I just found the right people, I would feel that way forever. I thought arousal was a compass pointing toward the relationships I should continue to water in my life.

 

I thought desire was telling me who was “right” for me.

 

I was wrong.

 

And, I was not alone.

 

One of the most common questions I hear from my clients navigating non-monogamy and long-term relationships is this quiet, shame-laced fear:

 

“If I get so much wetter with someone new than I do with my long-term partner, does that mean my relationship is dying?”

 

And underneath that question is an even deeper one:

 

“Can I trust my body?”

 

The answer is yes. And also, not in the way you think.

 

Because your body is not only a storyteller of love. It is also a creature of novelty, dopamine, and habituation.

 

You are an exquisitely complex being with a brilliant nervous system and, at the same time, a very ancient brain that is wired to respond to new stimuli with heightened attention and arousal. This is true for sex. This is true for pleasure. This is true for nearly everything in your life.

 

Think about the device you are reading this on. The fact that you have the time, space, and safety to sit and read. The fact that electricity hums quietly around you. These are miracles of modern life that your nervous system has long since habituated to. You no longer feel awe every time you flip a switch or open a screen.

 

Habituation is not a failure of gratitude. It is a feature of the brain.

 

There is another piece here that is important to name, especially for those of us with vulvas.

 

The research is clear that people with vulvas tend to experience a sharper decline in sexual desire in long-term relationships than people with penises. This is not a personal failure. It is not a sign that you chose the wrong partners. It is not proof that you are incapable of long-term love.

 

It is a pattern observed across studies of sexuality, desire, and habituation. Many researchers theorize that this responsiveness to novelty is deeply tied to how arousal systems in vulvas are wired to stimulation, context, and newness in ways that differ from penile arousal patterns.

 

Which means that for many people with vulvas, this experience of feeling less wet, less turned on, or less spontaneously aroused in long-term partnerships is not only common. It is predictable.

 

And when you do not know this, you can easily make devastating meaning out of something that is actually profoundly human.

 

This is the exact same misunderstanding many people have about erotic arousal in long-term relationships.

 

When you have been with someone for years, your body knows them. Their smell is familiar. Their touch is predictable. Their patterns are known. And in that knowing, something beautiful has happened.

 

Your nervous system has learned that it is safe.

 

Safety is one of the most powerful foundations for love, attachment, and intimacy. Safety allows you to soften. Safety allows you to be vulnerable. Safety allows you to build a life together. Safety allows you to rest.

 

But safety is not the same thing as novelty.

 

And novelty is what spikes dopamine, heightens attention, and often makes your pussy suddenly, wildly wet.

 

This is why new relationship energy can feel so intoxicating. This is why a new lover can make your body respond in ways you have not felt in years. This is why pickup play, flirting, or a new connection can make you feel like you are rediscovering your sexuality all over again.

 

And, this does not mean your long-term relationship is broken.

 

It means your brain is doing exactly what brains have always done.

 

In the Pleasure Liberation: Relationships program, we spend time learning how to separate the story from the sensation. We learn how to notice what the body is doing without rushing to create a catastrophic narrative about what it means for our partnerships. We practice the skill of communicating with our partners before panic sets in.

 

We practice saying, with steadiness and care:

 

“You will see me respond more intensely to other partners at times. You will see my body get very turned on in ways that may feel different from what we have right now. And that does not mean I love you less. That does not mean our bond is weaker. That does not mean I am leaving. It means my body is responding to novelty, and I want us to understand that together instead of being afraid of it.”

 

This is a skill.

 

This is not something most of us were ever taught.

 

Because we were handed a cultural story that says your level of arousal is a direct referendum on the health of your relationship.

 

And, that story causes so much unnecessary suffering.

 

I have watched people leave loving, secure partnerships because they believed their decreasing wetness meant the relationship had run its course. I have watched people feel broken because they could not sustain the same intensity of desire for someone they adored. I have watched people chase novelty again and again, thinking the problem was the person, not understanding the pattern of the nervous system.

 

And, I have also watched people learn to bring novelty back into long-term love in ways that are playful, intentional, and deeply erotic.

 

New environments. New fantasies. New kinks. New conversations. Travel. Risk. Erotic jealousy. Creative exploration. Witnessing each other in new relational dynamics. These are all ways to reintroduce novelty into familiar love.

 

Novelty does not have to mean new people. And new people do not have to mean the end of old love.

 

But none of this is intuitive when you have not been taught the framework.

 

What changed everything for me was learning the neuroscience. Learning about habituation. Learning about dopamine. Learning that my body’s response was not a moral verdict on my relationship choices.

 

I stopped asking, “Who makes me the wettest?” and started asking, “What is my body responding to, and how can I hold that information with wisdom instead of panic?”

 

I began to see that my long-term partnerships were not failing. They were stabilizing. They were becoming safe harbors. And that safety was not the enemy of desire. It was the ground from which deeper, more creative, more intentional eroticism could grow.

 

Gratitude became a practice.

 

Not the kind of gratitude that scolds you into appreciating what you have, but the kind of curiosity that gently brings you back into feeling the abundance that is already beside you.

 

The familiar touch. The shared history. The way your nervous system can finally exhale in their presence.

 

When you slow down enough to notice these things, something shifts. You begin to see that the absence of frantic arousal is often the presence of profound connection.

 

And from that place, you can choose novelty consciously instead of chasing it desperately.

 

You can expand your erotic life without setting fire to the garden of relationships you have so carefully tended.

 

You can follow your wet pussy with awareness instead of letting it drag you by the collar.

 

You can love deeply and be turned on wildly without assuming those two experiences must always come from the same people, in the same way, forever.

 

This is one of the many skills we practice together in the Pleasure Liberation spaces. Not as abstract theory, but as lived, embodied, relational practice in community with others who are learning the same language.

 

Because this work is not just about feeling more desire.

 

It is about understanding your desire well enough that it becomes a source of wisdom, creativity, and choice in your life.

 

Pleasure is wise. And, it needs context.

Pleasure is powerful. And, it needs language.

Pleasure is revolutionary. And, it needs community.

 

Your Pleasure Practice

 

Journal Practice:
Where in your life have you mistaken habituation for loss, instead of recognizing it as a sign of safety and familiarity?

 

Somatic Practice:
Bring to mind a long-term partner or lover. Notice what happens in your body as you picture them. Without trying to change anything, gently scan for sensations of comfort, steadiness, familiarity, or ease. Let yourself feel the quiet forms of connection that are often overlooked when we are searching for intensity.

 

Relational Practice:
What would it sound like to say to a partner, “You will see me respond more intensely to other partners at times, and that does not mean I love you less. I want us to understand that together rather than fear what it means”?

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Sending All My Love,
Dr. Nicole

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Dr. Nicole Thompson

Sex and Relationship Psychotherapist

Psychedelic-Assisted Liberation

Clinical Psychology