Sex coach reveals the top problems clients are secretly struggling with
Words by Marie Morice
Let’s be honest, no one starts out thinking they’ll need a sex coach. But by the time women reach out to me, they’re done waiting. They’re done wondering if this is all there is. They’re craving more connection, more confidence, more joy in their bodies – and they want real answers.
As a certified sex coach, I work exclusively one-to-one with women. Not because I don’t support men or couples, I do, and I love facilitating group spaces for all genders. But in my 1:1 coaching, I’ve found that the most profound, lasting shifts happen when women stop outsourcing their pleasure and start claiming it for themselves.
My clients are typically between 35 and 60. Some are divorced, some newly single, some in long-term relationships that feel flat. Most are smart, driven, and successful in many areas of life, but feel like beginners in bed. They’re not broken. They’re not frigid. They’re simply ready for more.
Many are in relationships with men, and I often end up indirectly coaching the entire relationship through the lens of the woman. I also lead group sessions with men, and what strikes me is how universal the issues are: disconnection, shame, performance pressure, silence. The details differ, but the longing for intimacy, for freedom, for realness, is the same.
Before this chapter of my life, I spent over 25 years leading global work in climate, sustainability, and gender equity – with organisations like the UN, WWF, Barclays, and Accenture. I knew how to influence policy, drive systems change, and rally movements.
And then, I changed everything.
After a divorce, I began re-learning what it meant to live in my body, not just my head. I found myself asking, ‘Where has my desire gone?’ Was it age? Stress? Motherhood? Was I broken?
The more I asked, the clearer it became: while I’d spent my career fighting for a better planet, I’d lost touch with my own internal terrain – my pleasure. I started to see how the same patterns I’d worked to shift globally also showed up personally: disconnection, depletion, silence around needs. I needed to heal my relationship with joy, intimacy, and the body.
That insight sent me on a new path. I trained and certified as a sex coach. I studied anatomy, neuroscience, psychology, and the art of embodied transformation. I explored my own sensuality, wrote about it, and eventually published Manhunting in Manhattan – a fictionalised (but emotionally true) story of post-divorce sexual awakening. A love letter to women like me: curious, playful, sensual, but never taught how to be fully alive in their pleasure.
I became a certified sexologist and an ICF-accredited transformative life coach. I founded The Pleasure Atelier, a global platform helping women reclaim pleasure as a source of power, confidence, and wellbeing, and Lilith Your Life, a non-profit with a mission to help one million women in the UK enjoy sexual wellbeing by 2030, in alignment with the UN Sustainable Development Goals.
Today, I work at the intersection of sexual wellness, workplace leadership, and gender equity, through coaching, research, advocacy, retreats, corporate training, and public speaking. My mission is to make pleasure part of the conversation for women navigating change, ambition, and desire.
Lilith Your Life is more than a platform. It’s a manifesto. Named after the mythical figure who refused to shrink herself, it’s a call to live unapologetically – in our bodies, in our joy, and in our full erotic power. The women I coach are modern Liliths, whether they know it yet or not.
Now, I spend my days helping them reclaim the parts of themselves they were taught to suppress: their desire, their sensuality, their right to ask for more.
These are the top problems and what I tell people.
“I don’t feel desire anymore. What’s wrong with me?”
This is the number one fear I hear. And it’s usually followed by shame, worry, and a quiet sense of failure. But here’s the truth: nothing is ‘wrong.’ You’re not broken. You’re not failing. You’re just responding, wisely, to a world that’s asked too much of you and offered too little in return.
Desire doesn’t disappear. It evolves. For most women, it’s not spontaneous, it’s responsive. That means it thrives when the conditions are right: when you’re rested, when you feel safe, when resentment isn’t running the show. If your libido feels MIA, it’s worth asking: is the issue my body, or the context I’m in?
Sometimes the ‘libido problem’ is actually an ‘overwork problem’, or an ‘I haven’t had space to breathe in three years’ problem. Sometimes it’s a relational pattern, feeling emotionally invisible in a long-term relationship, or burdened by the mental load. Sometimes it’s just boredom. Erotic energy needs variety, novelty, and a sense of being alive.
I work with clients to rebuild desire like a garden: slowly, gently, with care. That might mean scheduling solo time that isn’t performative. It might mean fantasising again, giving yourself permission to want. It might mean making space for your own turn-ons, without needing anyone else in the room.
Desire isn’t dead. It’s just buried under everything you were taught to suppress.
“We never have sex anymore. How do I bring it up without making things worse?”
This question often comes with a tightness in the chest. A sense of grief. Loneliness, wrapped in silence. I hear things like: ‘I don’t want to nag’; ‘I’m scared it will make things even more awkward’; and ‘What if I’m the only one who misses it?’.
The reality is, sex often drops off in long-term relationships, not because love disappears, but because stress, routine, and unspoken resentment take up all the space. And because so few of us were taught how to talk about intimacy without embarrassment or blame.
I guide clients towards gentle, emotionally attuned language. Start with connection by saying things like ‘I miss us’ or ‘I want to feel close again’. ‘Can we find each other in that way?’. Let the conversation be about curiosity, not complaint. Timing matters too, don’t bring it up during a fight or when either of you is rushing out the door. Choose softness.
Sex doesn’t have to mean intercourse. Rebuilding intimacy can start with affectionate touch, shared eye contact, holding hands again. Sometimes, I suggest couples create a ‘yes, no, maybe’ list of things they’re curious about, not to pressure, but to play.
Also, if your partner isn’t open (yet) to these conversations, that’s okay. You can start this journey solo. I often say that one empowered person in a relationship can shift the entire dynamic. Because desire, like courage, is contagious.
“I can’t orgasm, at least, not during sex”
This one arrives with a hushed tone. ‘Is it just me?’, ‘Shouldn’t I be able to?’, ‘Is something wrong with my body?’. Let me say this clearly: orgasm is not a test you pass. It’s not a performance. And you’re not broken.
Most women don’t orgasm from penetration alone. That’s not a flaw, it’s biology. The clitoris is the powerhouse of female pleasure, but you’d never know it from most sex ed or porn. It was only fully mapped in 2005, and its internal structure is still absent from many medical textbooks.
So, the first step is information. Learning how your own anatomy works. Exploring what actually feels good to you. Maybe that’s external stimulation. Maybe it’s pressure. Maybe it’s breath, rhythm, fantasy, or sound. I teach clients to get curious without rushing. Orgasm becomes easier when you stop chasing it.
With partnered sex, communication is key but so is letting go of the pressure to perform. If you’re constantly thinking about how long it’s taking, or whether your partner’s bored, your nervous system can’t relax. I work with women to rewire those thought patterns, and sometimes to reintroduce toys, positions, or oral sex that centre their pleasure.
Remember, orgasm isn’t the only measure of good sex. If you’re feeling more, opening up and connecting, your pleasure is already expanding. The rest comes with time, trust, and letting go.
“I’ve never really explored self-pleasure, and I don’t know where to start”
This is one of the most tender and surprisingly common confessions I hear. Often whispered, as if shame still clings to the idea.
The truth is that self-pleasure has long been framed as taboo or ‘naughty’ for women. Many were never given permission to explore their own bodies, let alone enjoy them. If your first experience of self-touch was rushed, guilt-ridden, or absent altogether, it’s no wonder it feels confusing now.
I invite clients to begin again. To start not with technique, but with presence. Light a candle. Put on music that evokes a feeling. Wear something that feels soft or sensual. Begin by touching your arms, your neck, your thighs – without going straight to your genitals.
Breathwork is incredibly helpful here. So is movement like rocking your hips, circling your pelvis, or dancing slowly in front of a mirror. I encourage women to journal afterwards about what they felt, what surprised them and what they want more of.
And no, you don’t need a drawer full of toys to begin (though I’m a fan!). The real shift comes when self-pleasure stops being goal-oriented and becomes relational. A way of befriending your body. A practice of curiosity and care.
This isn’t about ‘fixing’ your libido. It’s about coming home to yourself.
“I’ve lost my confidence, I don’t feel sexy anymore”
Often, it’s not just about sex, it’s about how a woman feels walking into a room, looking in a mirror, or being touched with the lights on. Somewhere along the way, she stopped recognising herself.
Confidence, in my work, has little to do with how you look, and everything to do with how deeply you feel. That includes how connected you are to your desires, your pleasure, your voice, your edges. The most magnetic women I’ve met aren’t flawless – they’re alive.
We begin by restoring that aliveness. That might mean reconnecting to fashion and style in a sensual way, not dressing for approval, but expression. It might mean journaling fantasies or rewriting internal scripts like ‘I’m too old’ or ‘I’m not desirable’. It often involves mirror work, dance, self-portraiture, or even erotic photography as a reclamation.
Touch also plays a role, whether it’s through guided self-pleasure, sensual massage, or simply letting yourself be adored. I remind women, ‘You don’t have to wait to be chosen’. Choose yourself. Pleasure builds confidence from the inside out.
And yes, I hear this from men, too. In group work, many express the pain of feeling ‘past it’ or disconnected from their bodies. They’ve been taught that sexual value is about performance, but real confidence comes from presence.
Sexy isn’t a size, an age, or a number. It's energy. And it’s never too late to reignite it.
Final thought
Pleasure isn’t frivolous. It’s not a reward for ticking boxes or a perk of a good relationship. It’s a birthright. It’s a source of energy, clarity, resilience, and joy.
Whether you’re orgasming daily or still figuring out what turns you on, there’s no right timeline. There’s only your truth and your willingness to follow it.
Because when a woman chooses pleasure, she chooses power. And that choice? It changes everything.
Photos: Getty
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