“I usually have a high sex drive,” says 27-year-old Grace*. “But I’m desperately single, so that’s a potent mix.” Although she’s been technically single (save for some situationships and FWBs) for five years, Grace has never really struggled with her libido. That is, until this year.
“Bad dates definitely play a role,” she says, referencing today’s increasingly turbulent dating landscape, “as does work stress. If I’ve had a bad day, I rarely want to spend my evening making small talk with James the graphic designer, you know? But, beyond that, life has become so fast paced that it’s hard to find time to really connect with myself, let alone someone else.”
Like many of us, Grace feels as though “life was put on fast-forward after the pandemic to make up for lost time”. “There’s more panic to achieve everything quicker — whether that’s finding a partner or excelling at work,” she explains. “And panic isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac.”
Of course, Grace isn’t alone in these feelings. In Cosmopolitan UK’s recent sex survey, 27% of you said you wished you had more energy for sex; something that, for many, is lacking because of the breakneck speed of life. Ever since the world opened up again after lockdown, more and more people have complained about feeling like they have less time than they used to. And, thanks to the rising cost of living, less money, too.
It’s no wonder, then, that daters have felt the need to optimise or hack their romantic lives. In the last couple of years, many have perfected efficiency, sending out pre-date questionnaires and post-date surveys, doing pre-date vibe checks, reviving speed dating, and even ‘date stacking’, AKA going on multiple dates in a day. All of this has, of course, been influenced by a decade of dating apps, which gamified our love lives, turning potential lovers into an endless carousel of commodities.
After all that, are you feeling turned on? Nope, I didn’t think so.
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“There’s a significant rise in stress and anxiety, partly due to economic uncertainty, pressures around careers, social media comparison, and, of course, the pandemic,” says psychosexual and couples psychotherapist Clare Faulkner. “All of that together creates chronic fatigue that can then disrupt hormonal balance and leave very little space for physical intimacy.” Faulkner adds that because young people are more aware of their mental health and emotional wellbeing than previous generations, they might be more likely to prioritise that — via acts of ‘self-care’ or ‘self-love’, as championed online — over sexual exploration.
It’s important not to understate the pandemic’s potential impact on this. Almost five years on from its start, not only does it continue to have a devastating effect on young people’s mental health, but sex with anyone you didn’t live with was — for a long time — literally banned by the government. And, as they were less likely to be partnered up, those aged 18 to 24 were the most likely to have their sex lives affected by lockdown, with 66% reporting a decline in sex. For those who came of age during this time, having to perceive physical intimacy as a danger to life is bound to mess with your perception and prioritisation of it.
“We still don’t know the full extent of how social lockdowns may have impacted dating and sex afterwards,” says Liam Wignall, a senior lecturer in psychology at the University of Brighton who co-authored a study on Covid’s impact on sexual desire and behaviour among young people. “We do know it’s difficult to psychologically adjust back to a full sense of normality, especially when, for young people, their sense of normality is ever-changing.”
Although this accusation is levelled at every generation, stats do point to Gen Z having less sex than ever — something many people (and especially women) embraced with open arms in 2024, going ‘boy sober’ or totally celibate. Part of this, says Wignall, could just be down to a lack of opportunity. “Because of the cost of living, people are staying at their family home longer,” he explains. “This means people may be lacking privacy to be intimate with others. Also the thought of having sex in the bedroom you grew up in may not be that arousing for some people. There are other social factors involved, too — people are drinking and going out less, both of which have been significant in hook-up cultures.”
But is this becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy? Sure, less time or opportunity for sex = less sex, but can less sex start to = less desire for sex?
“I used to enjoy sex when I was younger and my sex drive would regularly be high, but now I’m in my late 20s and I never really think about having sex,” says 26-year-old Caitlin*. “I had a casual relationship earlier this year after meeting someone on a dating app. But after it ended, I was feeling low and my sex drive dropped.” Because of the state of dating — which Caitlin describes as being “quick, non-committed, casual, and a complete car crash” — she hasn’t attempted to date anyone new. “And now that I’m not dating, I don’t have any sexual desire, [which has only been exacerbated] by work stress and personal life problems.”
It makes sense, in a way, that sexual desire is tied to having a sexual interest or a crush, but Caitlin is finding that she doesn’t even have much appetite for solo sex. “My solo sex drive has been non-existent, too,” she says. “It’s been weeks since I even last [thought about masturbating],” she says, adding that “right now, I feel quite alone and embarrassed. I want to feel sexually empowered but things [in dating] just haven’t gone to plan for me. I feel like I’m doing everything wrong.”
This feeling — of dating pessimism and a diminished sex drive — seems to be particularly potent in heterosexual dynamics. This year, the political and social divide between young men and women reached a fever pitch, most starkly exemplified by Donald Trump’s re-election into US office in November — a win that was buoyed by young, often extremely online, men. Misogyny is, once again, booming, with Gen Z men more likely than baby boomers to believe feminism has done more harm than good.
And yet, whether we’re shagging or not IRL, our thirst for lust hasn’t totally abated. Just look at the online fervour around celebrities like Paul Mescal and Nicholas Chavez, the babygirlification of alleged assassin Luigi Mangione, and the growing obsession with monster porn. Plus, despite young people supposedly being anti-sex scene, everyone’s still watching porn — and, in many cases, a lot of it. Could it be, then, that, despite work pressures and chronic stress, our sex drives could remain strong, but this animosity between genders is reducing our desire for the IRL people in our lives?
“Changing expectations in heterosexual relationships brings new challenges,” says Faulkner, “and [as a result, can leave] men and women feeling quite alienated or defensive. I wonder how much the online discourse feeds into that. I don’t have the answer to that, but I’m assuming that it leads to mistrust, reduced communication, and, ultimately, an unwillingness to be vulnerable, which is what healthy sexual and romantic relationships really seek from us.”
So, going into 2025, what does all of this mean for dating and relationships? How can we work at closing the gender divide and boosting our libidos? “There’s a real need to have an open, empathetic dialogue that can encourage people to express their needs, boundaries, and expectations more clearly, rather than falling into the assumptions of the older generation about what gender roles are,” Faulkner advises.
When it comes to sex, she adds, we all need to start reflecting on whether we’re really having the sex we want. “People get hooked on the amount of sex they’re having, but we often feel more satisfied having less sex, as long as the sex we’re having is actually meeting our needs.” If you’re exclusively having pretty shit sex — especially in casual encounters — that’s going to reduce your desire for it in the first place. “It can be really challenging for people, but [the only way to have good sex] is to voice your needs.”
And then there’s the classic tips to boost libido: strive to reduce stress, which exercise can help with; start meditation or mindfulness; try to get more and better quality sleep; continue emphasising self-pleasure, maybe scheduling it in if you find it’s not coming naturally, and being curious about what you like and need sexually; if you have a partner, experiment with novelty in and out of the bedroom; embrace play. But if you feel like something has seriously shifted, it’s worth looking into your hormones, as medications and certain endocrine conditions can directly impact sex drive.
Importantly, though, know that it’s totally normal for your sexual desire to ebb and flow. “Desire isn’t always spontaneous,” says Faulkner. “For some people, it’s only once you start getting sexual that you notice, ‘Oh, yeah, I am wanting to do this’.”
It’s also normal to feel sad, like Caitlin does, about losing a desire that’s so important in our lives, and one that feels like it should be innate. “It’s definitely affected how I feel about myself in general, which is hard, as I’d like to think I’m naturally a sexual person,” agrees Grace. “When that part of me is dimmed, I don’t feel like my ultimate self.” But, she says, talking to her friends about it helps, especially as, this year, they’ve been going through the same thing. “It’s so helpful to hear that I’m not weird or ‘broken’,” she concludes.
*Names have been changed
