Modern Marriage: Prioritizing Female Sexual Satisfaction

I want to start this one soft, because the topic is tender for a lot of us. It touches guilt, shame, love, sex, loyalty, and all the complicated corners in between. If you’ve ever laid in bed beside your husband, loving him deeply but still aching for more… you’re not alone. And you’re not wrong. You’re not broken. You’re not selfish.

You’re just a woman. A living, breathing, desiring woman. The ache? The craving? It doesn’t mean you married the wrong man. It doesn’t mean you’re disloyal. It doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful. It just means you’re human.

All Men Are Beautiful

Not all men are built the same. Physically. Emotionally. Sexually. We know this, right?

Some men are soft and sensitive, slow to speak but deep in their thoughts. Others are bold, assertive, full of swagger. Some are wild in bed, others are… less than. Some have the kind of equipment that fills your whole body with a sense of surrender, and others… don’t but still love you unconditionally.

We all have that friend, perhaps it’s you who married an incredible man. He’s solid. Loyal. Helpful. Emotionally available. A good dad. A good cook. He folds laundry. He remembers your mom’s birthday.

He’s also… kind of mid in the sex department. Maybe he finishes too fast. Maybe he’s just not into the same things. Or maybe he’s on the smaller side and yeah, size does matter, at least sometimes and I think we should normalize that simple truth.

And you know what happens the very moment after I say that? Guilt. Intense guilt. Because how dare you want more when you already have a good man? The truth is that wanting more doesn’t mean you love him less. It just means you’re still alive. We aren’t designed for monogamy but many aspects of monogamy work for modern society. Monogamy is the societal expectation and many of us feel more comfortable living within the walls of what society calls normal.

Let Me Put It This Way…

I love my husband. I really, really do. He’s tender, playful, strokes my hair while we stand in line at the grocery store, rubs my shoulders while we sit and watch tv. Kev has never made me question whether I’m loved, I’ve never questioned it and he knows and loves my body better than anyone ever has. Every shape, imperfection, curve, fold, wrinkle. He loves all of them.

But he’s not… the most generously equipped man. And I say that with love. He’s what I call “boyfriend dick.” Soft. Sweet. Familiar. Cozy. He’s grilled cheese. A warm bath. Everyday comfort. I say it without same or guilt that sometimes, my body wants something a little different. Sometimes I want something that makes me feel taken, makes me feel overwhelmed physical. I want to see a penis that makes me quiver and think “there is no way that is going inside me.” That’s not Kev and that’s OK! His everyday boyfriend dick is what I need for every day, for the type of love that supports Storge, the Greek word for familial love and a deeply connected bond between husband and wife, our family unit that I so deeply cherish.

The guilt I’d feel as I lie there after sex, him satisfied, me halfway satisfied and tell myself: You’re lucky. You have love. Stop being greedy. Stop thinking about bigger hands and deeper thrusts and stronger bodies. That’s selfish. In the back of my mind, I’d have that lingering craving. You know that kind of craving. The kind that shows up in your hips. That hunger for a deeper stretch, a firmer grip, a more primal presence. It’s not personal. It’s physical. It’s instinctual. It’s transactional. I want to feel taken. I want passion. Pure, unbridled passion. Not all the time but I want it and I crave it sometimes.

But that voice? That voice isn’t mine. It’s not yours either. It’s the voice of generations of women who were told that their pleasure is secondary. Optional. Dangerous. Dirty. And it used to make me feel so guilty. I couldn’t say the word cuckolding. It was such a trigger for guilt that I coined the phrase “poly friending” to discuss any goings on outside of marriage.

We don’t have to listen to that booming voice of shame and guilt anymore. I overcame it and so can you.

Selective Guilting

Here’s the thing that helped me start to untangle the guilt, I realized we don’t hold ourselves to this standard in any other area of life.

Kev’s a great cook. But I still love eating out. Sometimes I want sushi, or Indian, or a rare steak from a chef who trained in Paris. It doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate Kev’s pasta. It just means I like variety.

Kev gives great back rubs. But when my body’s really aching, I book a massage with someone who knows how to get into those tight spots and make me melt. That doesn’t mean Kev isn’t good enough. It just means someone else has a specialized skill that I benefit from.

And yet, when it comes to sex, we act like everything has to come from one person, all the time, forever.

Why? Why do we do that to ourselves?

Sex isn’t a chore to check off a list. It’s not just a way to connect emotionally. It’s also a physical act. It’s visceral. It’s deeply individual. And sometimes, your body wants something your partner simply doesn’t have. Why do we couple our romantic relationships with sexual exclusivity?

This Isn’t About Replacing Your Man

Let’s be really clear. I’m not saying “trade him in.” This isn’t about ditching good men because they’re not porn stars or packing extra inches.

It’s about adding fullness to your life. Like getting dessert after the meal. Or going to a concert even though you love listening to music at home. It’s about making space for both comfort and craving.

We’re so quick to slap labels on things. If you sleep with someone else, it must mean you don’t love your partner. If you fantasize about something he doesn’t offer, you must be unhappy. That’s so black and white but real life is way more nuanced.

In my marriage, I’m not looking for a replacement. I’m looking for expansion. I’m looking for ways to feel more alive in my body. And for us, that has included me exploring other sexual experiences with Kev’s love and support. Not because he’s not enough but because my sexual desires are wider than his capacity. That’s not a betrayal. It’s just our truth.

Why Are We Afraid to Say This?

Because we’ve been trained to equate sexual exclusivity with love. But that’s not where monogamy started. It started as a tool of control.

Historically, monogamy wasn’t about romance, it was about property. About making sure a man’s wife didn’t have another man’s baby. About guarding paternity and controlling women’s bodies.

And now we carry that legacy in our modern relationships like it’s some sacred value. But it’s not sacred. It’s just old.

We’re in a new world now. We have birth control. We have agency. We can separate sex from procreation, sex from ownership, sex from guilt. And if we want to, we can create marriages that are built on love and truth rather than guilt and shame.

What About His Feelings?

This is usually where women pull back. We go, “But wouldn’t that hurt him?” And I get it. I love my husband. The last thing I want to do is make him feel any “less than”.

But here’s what I’ve learned, men are not as fragile as we think. They are not glass dolls. They’re capable of growth. Of maturity. Of seeing you as a woman with a body and desires that don’t always match what they bring to the table. Pandering to his male ego isn’t a need for men even though they may be used to us tiptoeing around their fragile egos.

When I first brought up the idea of Andrew or Erik or poly-friending or cuckolding, Kev and I had a hundred conversations. Both of us cried. Both of us were scared. But ultimately, Kev said one line that I’ll never forget. A line that I reach for, quite often when I’m feeling unsure or questioning our decisions.

He said, “I’d rather know you’re fulfilled than pretend you are.” That’s honesty, that’s real love.

Guilt Doesn’t Serve You

When I stopped feeling guilty for wanting more, my whole body softened. I stopped clenching around my needs. I started owning my desire without apology. And you know what happened?

My marriage got better.

Kev and I became more honest. More tender. He saw that I wasn’t rejecting him but I was embracing Emma and Emma’s needs. And when he saw how much more lit up I was, he leaned in. He wanted to support that glow. That aliveness. Because he loves me.

Not some idea of me. Me. Truly me.

And I love him—not for what he lacks, but for how fully he sees me in my human form and in my feminine form.

Let Yourself Off the Hook

So if you’re reading this and nodding quietly, feeling the lump in your throat of a truth you haven’t said out loud—let me be the one to tell you:

You’re not a bad partner for wanting more.

You’re not ungrateful.
You’re not unfaithful.
You’re not disgusting or wrong.

You’re just a woman with a body that still wants. And that want is sacred.

Maybe for you it’s not about opening your marriage. Maybe it’s just about having the conversation. Saying out loud, “I love you. And sometimes I wish sex felt different. Can we talk about that?” Maybe it is about normalizing something as simple as sex toys or dirty talk in bed.

Or maybe it’s about writing it in your journal first. Letting yourself say it without judgment.

Whatever it looks like, I hope you give yourself permission to start.

Because we deserve sex that fills us, not just emotionally, but physically too.

We deserve pleasure that matches the depth of our love.

We deserve husbands who see us, not as threats, but as women in bloom.

Evolving the Conversation

1. Can you remember a moment when you wanted more—sexually—but felt too guilty to say it?
2. How would your relationship change if you allowed space for your full sexual truth?
3. Do you feel your needs are less valid than your partner’s? Where did that story come from?
4. Have you ever thought about separating emotional exclusivity from sexual fulfillment?
5. What does it mean to choose your partner daily, even when your body craves variety?