Ask Mr. Desire.

It's been months, you know. At home. We don't fight, we get along well, actually. We just somehow stopped. And every night I think about saying something, and every night I scroll instead.

Uncle, we live with his parents, his brother, and a grandmother whose hearing is selectively excellent. The door has a bolt but the walls have opinions. Romance is becoming a scheduling problem.

I'm 34, married seven years, and last week I realised I have no idea what turns me on anymore, not in a sad way, in a "the menu changed and nobody handed me the new one" way. How do I get curious about myself again without making it feel like homework?

Every adult around me pretended sex ed was covered by that one awkward class in Std 8. I'm 29 now and still Googling basic things at 2 AM in incognito. What's the one thing you wish someone had told 16-year-old you, plainly, without the metaphors about flowers and bees?

How do you actually flirt as an adult without feeling like a teenager pretending, or a HR training video? I've forgotten the middle setting between "polite colleague" and "clumsy compliment about her hair."

My partner and I have started scheduling intimacy like a dentist appointment. On paper it's working, it happens more. But it feels less like desire and more like calendar hygiene. Are we killing the thing we're trying to save?

Why did nobody ever tell me that puberty doesn't actually end at 18? I feel like my body kept renegotiating the contract into my late twenties, hair in new places, moods I didn't order, a libido that shows up like an unannounced cousin. Is this normal or is my endocrine system just improvising?