Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about friendship—specifically, how it impacts our pleasure, happiness, and even our sex lives.
On a recent call with a client in her 50s who had just moved neighborhoods in suburban Chicago, she shared something that stuck with me: although her new home was only a short drive from where she used to live, she felt surprisingly lonely—disconnected from the women who used to live just around the corner.
As she moves through menopause, that separation from female friendship has felt especially tender.
Her story reminded me of something Dr. Aviva Romm said in an interview with Anna Goldfarb, author of Modern Friendship. When asked what supported her most through menopause, she didn’t say hormone therapy or exercise. She said: “My female friendships.”
She added, “My partner is great—we’ve been together for 40 years—but there are just edges where he doesn’t get it. Being aligned with other women who are going through similar things in my phase of life has been a lifesaver. It’s been so healthy and normalizing.”
That affirmation echoed something I’ve felt myself.
Research shows we lose half of our close friends every seven years (Mollenhorst, 2009). And many of us aren’t forming new ones nearly as quickly as we transition through our 30s and beyond.
I’ve noticed a shift in my own life—an unspoken distance that seems to emerge as people marry, divorce, have kids, stay childfree, change careers, burn out, get promoted.
The older we get, the more we juggle. Time tightens. The stakes rise. And yet, the ache for closeness doesn’t go away.
In fact, a recent study found that while most adults were satisfied with the amount of friends they had, 40% of them wish they felt closer to their friends (Pennington et al, 2024).
It’s no wonder, then, that the Harvard Study of Adult Development —the longest study on human happiness—found that the number one predictor of wellbeing is the strength of our relationships .
Think about the last time you spent an afternoon catching up with a close friend. You probably walked away thinking, “Why don’t we do this more often?” Good friends feed the soul. They tether us to meaning.
As my friend Cat, founder of HeadSouth, beautifully put it:
“When we have strong friendships, we release the unrealistic expectation that one person should be our everything. Our therapist, lover, best friend, cheerleader, co-parent, spiritual companion, and roommate. That’s too much weight for any one relationship to hold.
Friendship gives us a web of care. It allows us to spread out our needs…This doesn’t diminish the importance of a romantic relationship, it strengthens it. It allows that partnership to be what it is, rather than forcing it to be what it’s not.”
So, what does this have to do with sex?
Well, everything.
So much of what fuels desire isn’t genital or even about your partner. It’s about how you feel in your life. Are you experiencing joy? Do you feel connected, seen, and alive?
Psychotherapist Esther Perel often says that eroticism isn’t just about sex—“It’s the practice of infusing creativity into daily life.” It shows up in dancing, cooking, laughing with a friend, reading poetry, listening to music.
These small pleasures are not separate from our sexual selves—they replenish them.
And yet, I see time and again—especially with the married, mothering women I coach—that pleasure gets deprioritized. Not because they don’t care, but because their lives are overloaded.
Kate Mangino, author of Equal Partners , notes that even in heterosexual households where men “help,” women still do 65% of the domestic labor .
Sociologist Allison Daminger adds that this imbalance comes at a cost:
“While his female partner continues to do housework for twenty, twenty-six, thirty-one more hours — he can devote this time to hobbies, relaxation, exercise, hanging out with friends, sleep, work and/or continued education. Essentially, he has the opportunity to do so much more with his life than she does.”
It’s no wonder pleasure feels out of reach. It’s not a personal failing—it’s structural.
Still, even within that reality—of work deadlines, childcare, mental load, and never-ending to-do lists—friendship can offer relief.
Of course, when we hear that people in Sardinia (a Blue Zone where residents regularly live into their 100s in good health) spend up to five hours a day talking with friends in the town square, it can feel...delusional. Who has time for that?
But the takeaway isn’t about logging hours. It’s about prioritizing connection , however that looks in your life. A 10-minute walk-and-talk. A voice note while folding laundry. A monthly dinner. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to exist.
And while much of this conversation often centers women—especially those carrying the invisible labor of home and parenting—men face their own crisis of connection.
A 2021 study by the American Survey Center found that 15% of men report having no close friendships at all —a 12% increase since 1990.
And compared to women, men are less likely to share emotional vulnerability in friendships, more likely to rely solely on their romantic partner for emotional support, and more likely to feel isolated as a result.
Friendship isn’t a luxury—it’s a cornerstone of emotional health. For all of us.
After pouring so much into my work and marriage, this year I made a conscious decision to re-prioritize my friends. I meet with them weekly, call those who live far and travel to see them.
I have allowed myself to savor the kind of closeness I hadn’t felt since my 20s. And something surprising has happened: every time I come home, I return not just fulfilled—but turned on .
That’s the thing no one tells you: Joy is an aphrodisiac .
So if you’re wondering how to reignite your sex life, start by asking:
Who are the people that make me feel most alive? When was the last time I saw them? What if more joy—not more performance —is the path to more pleasure? Sometimes, the spark you’re missing isn’t sexual—it’s social. Start by making that call.
