When Sex Is Fine but Something Still Feels Missing

By Derek Colvin, LPC-S, CGT - The Giant Therapist

Real. Raw. Unfiltered reflections on presence, performance, and why slowing down can feel so hard.

The Strange Space Between “It Works” and “It Feels Close”

A lot of couples don’t come into therapy saying they have a sex problem. They come in saying things like, “We’re still having sex, so I don’t know why this feels off,” or “Nothing is technically wrong, but something feels missing.” That space, between function and connection, is where most couples get stuck. Sex is happening. Bodies are doing what bodies do. But the sense of being emotionally met inside the experience has quietly faded.

What makes this so confusing is that quick, functional sex can look healthy from the outside. There’s no obvious crisis. No dramatic rupture. No clear villain. And yet, when intimacy becomes rushed, transactional, or purely goal-oriented, it often signals that something deeper is being avoided. Not consciously. Not maliciously. But protectively.

Because slowing down requires presence. And presence asks something of us that speed never does.

Quick sex often works because it asks less of us emotionally, not because it gives us more.

Why Going Fast Feels Safer Than Going Slow

When couples fall into a rhythm of quickies, it’s rarely about laziness or lack of desire. More often, it’s about regulation. Going fast keeps the nervous system in familiar territory. There’s less eye contact. Less exposure. Less chance of noticing the things that feel tender or uncertain. Speed becomes a form of safety. Slowing down, on the other hand, has a way of bringing everything into the room. The body. The thoughts. The insecurities. The comparisons. The unspoken fears about being wanted, being enough, or being seen too clearly. For many people, especially men who were taught to perform rather than feel, presence during sex can feel surprisingly overwhelming. So the body does what it knows how to do best: it shifts into efficiency. Accomplish the task. Hit the finish line. Move on. Not because connection isn’t wanted, but because vulnerability feels risky. And when couples don’t name that risk, they often mistake speed for desire and avoidance for preference.

Performance Mode vs. Connection Mode

One of the quiet themes running underneath so many sexual struggles is the difference between performance and connection. Performance mode is about outcome. It’s about doing it “right.” It’s about staying in control, meeting expectations, and avoiding failure. Connection mode is different. It requires receptivity. It asks you to stay with sensation, emotion, and response, not just action. Many people learned early on that sex was something you do, not something you experience. Add in cultural messages, porn, unrealistic narratives about endurance or intensity, and it’s easy to see how performance anxiety gets wired into intimacy. The body stays tense. The mind stays busy. Presence slips away. This isn’t a flaw. It’s an adaptation. When intimacy once felt confusing, overwhelming, or unsafe, the nervous system learned how to manage it by speeding things up or checking out. Over time, that pattern becomes familiar, even when the relationship itself is safe.

If sex stays in performance mode long enough, connection starts to feel unfamiliar, and unfamiliar often feels unsafe.

When Avoidance Looks Like “Everything Is Fine”

One of the most deceptive things about quick, functional sex is that it allows couples to tell themselves nothing is wrong. “We’re still intimate.” “We’re not like those couples who never have sex.” And sometimes that’s true. Quickies aren’t inherently bad. For many couples, they’re playful, connecting, and mutually satisfying. The problem isn’t the quickie. The problem is when speed becomes the only option because slowing down feels too exposing. That’s when sex quietly turns into something that manages anxiety rather than deepens connection. It becomes a way to avoid conversations about body changes, emotional distance, resentment, fear of rejection, or grief over how the relationship has shifted across seasons. The avoidance isn’t always conscious. Often it shows up as distraction, dissociation, or a sense of “checking out” mid-experience.

And that’s usually the moment when someone starts thinking, “Why does this feel so empty even though we’re still doing it?”

The Nervous System Always Tells the Truth

Libido isn’t just about desire. It’s about capacity. When a nervous system is overwhelmed (by stress, parenting, work, shame, or unresolved emotional tension), intimacy often becomes something to manage rather than enjoy. This is especially true when partners haven’t learned how to regulate together. Real connection requires co-regulation: the ability to slow down with another person and let your body feel safe in their presence. That safety doesn’t start in the bedroom. It’s built in the longer hugs, the shared silence, the moments of eye contact, the way partners greet each other at the end of the day. Those small rituals teach the body that closeness doesn’t have to be dangerous. When couples rebuild that sense of safety, something shifts. Sex stops being about racing toward the end and starts feeling more like an extension of connection rather than a performance to complete.

Quickies are about bodies. Slowing down is about being seen, and being seen is what many of us learned to avoid.

What It Means to Relearn Presence Together

Relearning presence doesn’t mean forcing slow sex or turning intimacy into another assignment. It means getting curious about what speed has been protecting you from. It means asking, gently and without judgment, what shows up when you imagine slowing down. Anxiety? Self-consciousness? Fear of disappointing your partner? Fear of being disappointed? Those reactions aren’t failures. They’re information. When couples approach intimacy with compassion rather than pressure, they begin to notice that connection grows outside the bedroom first. Presence during sex becomes easier when presence exists throughout the relationship. And over time, the body learns that slowing down isn’t a threat, it’s an invitation.

If This Resonated With You

If you found yourself nodding along while reading this, you’re not alone. Many couples live in this in-between space, not disconnected enough to panic, but not connected enough to feel satisfied. Naming that reality is often the first step toward change. If this reflection stirred something for you, share it with someone who might be quietly wrestling with the same questions. For more real, raw, unfiltered conversations about marriage, intimacy, and the emotional lives of men and women, follow @themajopodcast on Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, Spotify, and all major podcast platforms. On Facebook, you can find me at @thetherapygiant. On IG and TikTok,

you can find me @thegiant_therapist.

When You’re Ready to Go Deeper

If this brought up something tender - a sense of distance, confusion, or longing you haven’t known how to talk about - I’d be honored to help you explore it. I work with individuals and couples who want to understand the patterns shaping their intimacy, heal what’s underneath the avoidance, and build connection that feels grounded and real.

You can schedule a consultation here:https://www.thegianttherapist.com/booking-calendar/initial-phone-consultation

Nothing is “wrong” with you for wanting more than functional intimacy. That desire for depth is often a sign that something meaningful is trying to emerge.