“Jared talking about sex is inappropriate!”

He didn’t want to hear the reasoning behind it. He didn’t care what the conversation was about. It just struck a nerve.

And after a few minutes of conversation with him, I realized why. There was pain there. A past relationship that had fallen apart. A wound he’d tried to ignore for a long time.

I did my best to let empathy rather than frustration fill my head in the moment.

I’m guessing that most of us didn’t grow up learning how to talk about intimacy and sex from a healthy perspective. Hollywood taught us. Culture shaped it. And for many people, it’s tied up in memories they’d rather not revisit.

But I still believe this part of marriage matters. Not in a crude or performative way. In a deeply human way. Sex is the ingredient that typically separates a marriage from a friendship.

I’m a big fan of marriage. I understand why Warren Buffet said “marry the right person. I’m serious about that. It will make more difference in your life….I can’t overemphasize how important that is.”

And if you look around you can see or you know personally that marriage is an endangered species.

And like anything valuable, it requires tending — and work.

For many years, Annette and I had a good marriage. Steady. Loving. Faithful. If you had asked us to rate it back then, we both would’ve said a 9 out of 10 without hesitation.

But looking back now, it probably wasn’t.

It was closer to a 5 or 6.

We just didn’t know it yet.

Nothing was broken. We loved each other. We were committed. Life was full. Busy. Predictable. Comfortable.

And somewhere along the way, something honest became clear — nothing was wrong… but something had gone quiet.

Date nights had slowly faded. Flirting had become a memory. Life at home was easier than going out. The fire was still burning, but it was turned down low and safe.

I’m suspicious this happens to the best marriages.

My ‘sexless’ marriage

The term - sexless marriage - describes more homes right now than perhaps ever in history. But rather than dwelling on the traditional definition, I’d like to share my story.

Let me be clear — we stopped having ‘sex’, but we did not stop having sex. What we stopped was the kind that had started to feel a little too familiar, like the glow from your phone lighting up a dark room. Still light. Still there. Predictable. Easy to ignore.

Even good things can turn into background noise if you stop paying attention.

For many years my wife and I had ‘sex’. I don’t know how that word sits with you but I view it pretty much as an act — a thing — like walking, like breathing, like chewing your food — a marriage needs sex or you’re just living with a roommate who snores and uses your stuff. Sex is often described as the ‘glue’ of a marriage. By marriage, I mean the monogamous kind. I know some of us are arguing for an open marriage or a non-monogamous relationship - that is code for ‘this mission has failed’.

Another trap (especially in a sexless marriage) is the temptation that solo sex is the solution — but I’d like to argue that it’s like eating sugar or snacking between meals and you won’t want to eat real food after a while — in other words — the marriage will starve to death from the inside out. Porn is kryptonite to a marriage.

I still remember the first time I saw Annette. I didn’t know who she was, but I remember thinking, that woman is going to be my wife. Whatever it takes.

If you’ve ever experienced those early days of a relationship, you know what I’m talking about. It’s electric. Magnetic. You feel the pull from across the room.

Over time, life settles in. And that’s not a bad thing. A strong marriage has to be built on substance, not just chemistry. The G-Wagon might look intoxicating on the showroom floor, but real life has rough roads, speed bumps, and pot holes.

Chemistry matters

It’s like fuel to a fire.

Recently, I experienced riding in a Tesla in Full Self-Driving mode for the first time.

And to be fair, it worked - it was very cool. It got us from point A to point B. Smooth. Safe. Efficient. You could absolutely call that driving.

And for most people, that would be enough. You reached the destination. Mission accomplished.

But if you’ve ever driven a six-speed manual convertible with the top down, hands on the wheel, fully engaged — feeling every shift, every curve, every purr of the engine — it almost doesn’t feel fair to call those two experiences by the same name.

Both are technically “driving.”

…

But one is participation.

The other is an experience.

…

One you did.

The other really did you in.

…

One is forgotten the next day.

The other is in your head for weeks.

…

One is nice to have.

The other you can’t live without.

Or take tomatoes.

You can buy one from the store in the middle of winter. It looks like a tomato. Slices like a tomato. You can put it on a sandwich and call it a tomato.

But if you’ve ever picked one from your own garden in the heat of summer — still warm from the sun, dripping with flavor — you know immediately they’re not the same thing.

They share a name.

They do not share an experience.

The kind of intimacy that sustains a passionate marriage over the long term isn’t built on routine alone. It’s built on chemistry. Presence. Playfulness. Pursuit. The feeling that you still get to discover each other, even after years together.

It’s that sense of anticipation — like being a kid on Christmas morning. Not because something is brand new… but because it still feels special. Still worth showing up for. Still worth unwrapping.

That kind of connection doesn’t happen by accident. It grows where there’s time together, attention, affection, and intention. Where people feel seen, chosen, and desired — not just loved.

This kind of chemistry is no longer just something that happens in the moment but instead something that builds anticipation - in the little things, the looks, the whispers, the thoughts - all the time.

And when those things are present, intimacy stops feeling like something familiar and momentary and starts feeling alive again.

That’s the point about using the word sex here.

Same word.

Completely different experience.

And at some point, we realized intimacy in our own marriage had shifted from something that once felt like a ferocious wildfire… to something that felt more like a nightlight.

If you’ve ever witnessed a fire get out of hand, you know the kind of energy it carries — alive, powerful, impossible to ignore. That’s the kind of energy a marriage needs to stay vibrant. The kind that is palpable outside of the bedroom. The kind that makes you send a flirty text in the middle of the day. The kind that shows up in those quiet looks across the room, eyes locked, both of you thinking, this could get out of hand.

So we changed the way we showed up.

More intentional.

More present.

More connected.

We started noticing each other again. Making time again. Choosing — and chasing — each other again.

Time together. Thoughtfulness. Not taking the other for granted. These are the things that feed the fire.

And something interesting happens when you start tending to it. The anticipation comes back. The playfulness comes back. The closeness feels alive again. And IYKYK — sex is vital for a happy marriage.

I still look at her sometimes and think - if it wasn’t for her…I’d probably be in prison. 🤣

The ingredients needed

A fiery hot relationship doesn’t just happen. It grows where people feel safe. Where basic needs are met. Where stress isn’t constantly suffocating the room. Where old wounds and trauma are healed. Desire struggles to survive when health is off, when finances are heavy, when life feels unstable. But when there’s security, trust, and care — something deeper, hotter — can build.

Time together, thoughtfulness, intentionality, not taking the other for granted — all these things are needed on a daily and weekly basis.

A few weeks ago I accidentally set part of our yard on fire. What started as something small turned into something that nearly got out of control. It was a powerful reminder: fire always needs fuel. Left alone, it dies. Fed properly, it comes alive.

Marriage is no different.

Passion doesn’t disappear. It just waits to be pursued again.

And sometimes the most loving thing you can do for your marriage… is decide to pour some fuel on the fire.

When the right ingredients are present — pull the fire alarm — or better yet — get a room.

– Jared

P.S. - My wife has a beautiful newsletter where she shares her perspectives on tending the land, recipes, women’s health and more.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on sex + marriage. 👋

I write this newsletter each week because I feel my best when my body, mind and soul are all healthy. I want the same for you. If you feel like you’ve seen something valuable here, please do me a favor and forward this newsletter to a friend or let me know what you think by replying to this email or texting me - (310) 879-8441

P.S. - This newsletter does not provide medical advice. The content, such as graphics, images, text, and all other materials, is provided for reference and educational purposes only. The content is not meant to be complete or exhaustive or to be applicable to any specific individual's medical condition.

Here are a few other links to things that have changed my life:

Whoop - Track your HRV and REM Sleep

Function Health - Optimize Your Health via 160+ BioMarkers

Here are a few topics I think you’ll love if you haven’t checked them out before:

How to Breathe for Better Health

How to Supercharge Your Sleep

The Power of the Sauna