Well - I’ve been married for 20 years. 
A six month dry spell is not unknown. It’s been at least four months and I don’t see any rain clouds on the horizon. This is the most sucky part of marrrage.
Since my first time, I’d say only a year or so.
I have to say this, though. Truly.
I’m glad for when I went without, for whatever reason. Because of the long dry spells - I do feel like I became a born again virgin in many ways.
And I definitely enjoy it so much more now and recognize how vital it is to the bones of a good relationship. I’ve had good sex without having a great relationship - but I’ve never had a great relationship that didn’t involve at least good sex.
So you’re the guy who married my ex!
I should have mentioned that I spent eight months on Guam, which was like not having sex for about 30 years. In the military, GUAM stands for “Give Up And Masturbate”, not without reason.
After my divorce from my first and only sex partner I dated a bit but nothing went very far, perhaps due to my reluctance to have sex. Looking back, I had an exaggerated fear of unintended pregnancy. I was working with a couple guys who were in terrible shape financially due to child support payments and they took a lot of grief from the exes and I was determined that that would never happen to me. And it hasn’t. 
I would say I have an average (at least) sex drive. I was blessed with a very active imagination and so far, flying solo has been sufficient.
I’ll always be open to the possibility of a relationship but I don’t pursue it. I really don’t like the idea of casual sex or one night stands but “… never say never.”
About 3 to 4 years.
Sometime before my wife died to my wedding night on August 19, 2006
admiring applause
MeanJoe
The short answer is that no one wants me. I’ve asked why, but the only answer I’ve ever gotten is “no, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Those websites are a joke, seriously. I’ve created a profile on a site which got absolutely no response other than two form-letters, and now it just sits there, accomplishing nothing. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with it. And another profile on another site, where the only person who was remotely nice to me for longer than 3 emails suddenly had insurmountable “scheduling difficulties” when I suggested meeting in person.
Maybe the profile needs some tweaking, then.
And, on top of all that, you’re dragons have died.
Since I lost my virginity…mmmmmaaaybe two weeks at the outside.
My 1,5 years are related to first way to much work (in a new city), then suddenly moving countries, then setting up in a new country, then a new job and then it taking a while to pick up the social codes in my new surroundings.
Yeah, shouldn’t we be counting from when we wanted to have sex? It would only be fair to the 40 year old virgins, no?
Longview is one of the most accurate songs about depression I’ve ever heard.
My sex life has always been incredibly complicated. I have post traumatic stress disorder but I was also influenced by a young, hip Aunt who taught me to be very open and embracing of all kinds of sexuality. That means I’m perfectly comfortable discussing sex on a message board and think about sexual freedom in a very idealistic way, but I’m very cautious and discerning when engaging in the physical act myself. The heavens must be aligned perfectly for it to happen. My husband knew going into our relationship that our union would not exactly be an oasis of sexual pleasure. At the time, he naively said he would be happy just holding my hand and cuddling with me for the rest of my life. The poor bastard.
In the past, the number one reason for my lack of sex drive was the PTSD, more specifically the flashbacks, performance anxiety and severe depression. Nothing kills sex drive like depression. We’ve worked through a lot of that and I am pretty psychologically healthy, so the two biggest factors are 1) even though he is really attracted to me, I have a pretty low self-image. I am going to have to tackle my sense of physical self-esteem before we make any significant improvements. 2) For the last year I have been really physically ill. I am getting treatment now and things will be improving, but it’s been a rough go. 3) He is a doctoral student and I commute 3 hours a day to work and back. We never have time, and when we do have time we’re completely exhausted. I also suspect that we’re so in the habit of not having it that we just overlook it on our list of priorities.
I have to admit, I have always felt really abnormal because of how infrequently I have sex (I sure write and think about it a lot, though. Another weird nonsensical thing.) Reading this thread makes me aware just how much we as a society have elevated frequency of sex to mythological proportions. I’m sure some of us do have a lot of sex, and some of us never have sex, and some of us have it from time to time. I don’t feel like such a freak any more.
I just wanted to thank everyone again for their candor and not passing judgment on those of us who have what many would consider ‘unnaturally’ long dry spells. This thread has been enlightening and, like olives, it makes me not so alone and freakish.
I pray that for each of us lacking in enough (or any) physical intimacy, there’s a wealth of other completely wonderful and purposeful things to fill our lives. I definitely think we deserve it.
Let’s see, it’s the first week of December, so that makes it right about 13 years. Main reason being “inconvenient living arrangements”. About six months after the last time I got laid, I had a major financial crisis which resulted in my moving into the local men’s homeless shelter. I stayed there for eight years while I worked on getting myself out of debt. I moved out of the shelter a little over four years ago … and into a house with a deeply religious man who’s about my dad’s age and who doesn’t want any hanky-panky going on in his house (and I respect his wishes).
I got enough sex in my 20s to keep me mostly happy, but I also spent most of my 20s drunk (the primary contributor to the following financial crisis) and not learning to properly relate to women while sober. Or relate to sober women. Or what have you. Sobered up at 28, had sex for the last time at 29, and then moved into the shelter just before my 30th birthday. Of course, living in a men’s homeless shelter doesn’t provide a lot of opportunity to learn to relate to women, and in any case I avoided even pursuing relationships with women because I could never really figure out a good way to casually bring up the topic of my living arrangement and still retain a woman’s interest.
Now I’m 42 and have taken the admittedly defeatist position that I’ve gone this long without and it hasn’t killed me, so why make the effort to try to get some. And of course I’m so damned out of practice at even showing interest that I don’t even bother to try. I mean, there’s an attractive young lady down at the tobacco store who actually seems to dig me, and after several months I still can’t even work up the nerve to ask her what her name is 
See, you’re just bragging.
Aww. Please ask her name. What if she wants to get to know you too?
Maybe nothing will come of it, but at least you’ll have a name to the friendly face.
2 years, early '97-early '99. Right now it’s been 5 months. It would’ve been a year and a half (since my ex moved out), but I met a nice young man in July who was, shall we say, quite friendly and accommodating. Maybe he regretted it 'cause I haven’t heard from him since.
Right now the thing that’s stopping me from going out and painting the town red with whoever strikes my fancy is the small matter of not being divorced yet. I don’t know why that didn’t stop me back in July. Maybe it was knowing that I have no intention of going back to my ex, or that, to my knowledge, he’s done much more than that before and since that incident. For now, until the papers are signed, I will have to content myself with, well, myself. Just watch, though, I will probably end up meeting someone soon that will put that resolution to the test, because that’s the kind of luck I have.
Whoa, I really spilled my guts here. Sorry. :o
My longest dry spell was between #1 and #2, 12 months, while in college. #1 was a two- or three-night stand (depends on how you count 'em), then the next year was a great gal who I dated for 18 months. Next longest was 11 months, seven of which I was deployed on a boat with 2,200 other (male) Marines and a bunch of (male) sailors. A nice Irish nurse in Majorca may have been able to lessen that a tad, but I was still distraught over getting dumped two weeks before departure.