SH and I have been together for an incredibly long time. We were high school sweethearts, have been married for 8 years, and now have a young child (DD*) together.
We've seen each other through a lot - been blissfully happy, head over heels in love, fought, laughed, and cried. I would definitely call him one of my best friends. Though now, it's almost as though that's all I can call him, a friend.
I am what you would call a passionate person. When I hate, I can be vile. When I'm happy, I'm dancing in the streets. When I laugh, you can hear my delight from miles away. And when I love, it's so completely, so intensely, that's it's almost detrimental.
SH is much more calm than I. Oh, he has a temper when he's driving, he hates to be late, and will pitch a fit if his favourite football team loses, but generally he's a pretty placid person. He's happy with anything I decide, he trusts what I say as truth, he'll do pretty much anything I ask of him - and perhaps, therein lies the problem. For you see, SH has very little passion about anything. He loves DD and I immensely, but is content to let life just happen otherwise.
We can't have a discussion, or fight, or an intense conversation about anything, because generally he doesn't really care one way or the other. Sometimes out of pure desperation for conversation I try to start a fight just to get a reaction out of him, but what generally happens is that he lets me rant, then tells me everything will be okay, and not to worry.
The same is true about our sex life. I love sex. It's an incredibly important part of my life - I can't live without it. Not just because of the pure carnal joy of it, but because of what it represents (to me anyways), and the expression of love that comes along with it.
But since about 2 years after we moved in together, we've been steadily having sex less and less.
It's not for lack of trying on my part - I've offered to be the boss, the submissive, to do stripteases, to give him a blowjob in the kitchen while he's washing dishes, I'll wear anything he wants, fuck him anywhere he can think of. I've tried yelling about it, discussing it, crying about it, asking about it, threatening to leave if things don't change, threatening that if he won't do it I'll find someone who will. Nothing ever changes. In the moment where I'm having a meltdown about it he'll hold me, apologizing for being uninterested, or telling me he's sorry it's been so long, but by the next day it's like he's forgotten again.
Nowadays we have sex about once a month, and usually it's fairly fast. He's not into foreplay, doesn't like to go down on me, doesn't care one way or the other if I use my mouth on him, but then when he's actually fucking me, he's telling me how much he's missed me, and my body, and how it feels so good, and to ride him harder.
But that's it - there is barely any passion there, and literally none outside of our bedroom. Now it would be a shock if he ever walked up behind me and kissed me when I was in the laundry room folding clothes, or slapped my ass if I bent over to pick something up. He never wants to wrestle on our bed, isn't turned on if I'm walking by in a bra and panties - yet he tells me he loves me 58 times a day, and hates to be away from me.
We've become little more than roommates, and after years of trying to make things change, I'm just not sure I even care enough anymore.
*DD - Darling Daughter