As adults, we tend to focus on managing our work schedules, running our homes, and caring for others. In the process, it’s easy to get stuck in a rut and lose our sense of fun and adventure, especially when it comes to sex. As every couples therapist knows, this rut has the potential to unravel our romantic relationships. Luckily, we don’t have to ditch our daily roles and responsibilities to reenergize our partnerships.

“Fantasy and friction make for a great sex life,” sexual health pioneer Helen Singer Kaplan famously said. But when therapists address couples’ sex lives, we sometimes overfocus on everyday realities—Who initiates sex? How often? Could you establish a date night? What do you need to feel receptive to one another? Are there underlying resentments we need to look at? These questions are worth discussing, but so is another, less talked about, more internal and creative source of erotic energy: partners’ sexual imaginations.

Through my own experiences as an Imago Relationship and AASECT-certified therapist, I’ve learned to explore sexual fantasies to unlock partners’ imaginations and help them cultivate intimacy. I’ve stumbled many times as a therapist navigating my clients’ sensitivities and misconceptions about sexual fantasies, which are often shrouded in guilt and shame—making them relational land mines. Each clinical gaffe I’ve made has helped me adjust my approach and work to understand my clients’ perspectives better, even as I seek new ways to transform potential land mines into sources of creativity and intimacy. This was the case with Juan and Estella, a distressed couple I saw recently, for whom sexual fantasy was a taboo subject.

Dreams We Have While Awake

The atmosphere in my Santa Monica therapy office sizzles with electricity—and not the good kind. Juan, a former Navy Seal in his mid-40s, sits across from his wife, Estella, a past beauty pageant winner, who currently works as a broadcaster on a local news channel. Like many couples, Juan and Estella sought counseling because they struggled to connect emotionally and physically. Juan’s recent erectile dysfunction had intensified their challenges. The physical closeness they’d once shared had become awkward, leaving them frustrated and bristly. This isn’t uncommon: once the romantic phase of a relationship ends, many couples struggle with desire.

Earlier in the session, we’d spoken about what their sex life had been like before Juan’s challenges keeping an erection. Juan had explained that he gets anxious right before he comes because he doesn’t want to fantasize about anyone other than Estella in those moments.

“It’s okay to have sexual fantasies about someone else,” I say nonchalantly.

“Wait, what? How can you say that?” Juan asserts emphatically, furrowing his brow. “That’s cheating!”

I notice that Estella reacts, too, frowning as her cheeks and neck redden.

“Are you saying Juan should think about other women while having sex with me?” Her voice is chilly. Despite her diminutive physical size, her presence is formidable, and my chest tightens. The truth is their reaction surprises me. I’ve never considered extradyadic fantasies as constituting unfaithfulness, but I can see that by inadvertently offending one of their relationship values, I’ve elicited defensiveness. But I’ve learned something, too. Is this part of what’s at the root of their sexual difficulties? Do Juan and Estella fear and misunderstand the nature of sexual fantasies, which can be a potent driver of desire and arousal?

“Estella made me promise to think only about her during sex,” Juan continues, his gaze shifting toward his wife. “So now I only think of her.”

“If Juan thinks about someone else during sex,” Estella interjects, with a mixture of sadness and anger, “it means I’m not enough.”

“First of all, your feelings and perspectives are valid,” I assure them both. “But thinking of someone other than your partner during sex isn’t just common: it’s natural. It doesn’t necessarily reflect a lack of commitment or desire in the relationship. Many people imagine others during foreplay or sex with their partner.”

“That’s a relief to hear,” Juan says. “I guess you’d know. Thing is, I become so preoccupied with the fear of thinking about someone else that I actually end up losing my erection with Estella. We both get frustrated and give up. And I feel like I’ve failed her.”

“When he loses his erection,” Estella says, “I can’t help but take it personally. I begin telling myself, ‘He no longer finds me attractive. If he did, he’d stay hard.’”

From the beginning of my work with any couple, I make a point of addressing sexuality directly. I want to convey my own comfort level discussing desire, the body, and arousal, to help them share their sex life openly with each other. Throughout my sessions with Juan and Estella, I gauge the level of their anxiety. Anxiety dampens sex drive and arousal. Hopefully our conversation serves as a bridge—a channel through which their unspoken fears and struggles can begin to surface, creating an opportunity for deeper understanding, connection, and pleasure.

“Juan, would you judge yourself for the dreams you have while sleeping?” I ask.

“Of course not,” he responds, looking puzzled. “I can’t really control my dreams.”

“Sexual fantasies are kind of like dreams we have while we’re awake,” I explain. “Often, they arise involuntarily, particularly during sex. Fantasies reside in the realm of imagination. Attempting to control this part of your psyche with judgment can stifle joy and pleasure. What if, instead of feeling threatened by fantasies, you were curious about them? What if you shared your fantasies with one another? Or even cultivated them together?”

“I don’t know.” Estella shifts backward in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest, forming a literal barricade against the conversation we’re having.

“His commitment and attraction center on you,” I say, hoping to reassure her that it’s okay to imagine and explore possibilities; her attachment to Juan is safe. But it’s clear she feels uneasy and skeptical. “You and Juan have chosen each other as lovers. Remember, many of the fantasies we have aren’t about things we plan to do in reality. Sexual fantasies don’t have to diminish your bond. What if they actually enhanced it by infusing your relationship with novelty and intimacy?”

I’m aware that I’m talking a lot, probably because I’m a little anxious myself, but something must have landed with Estella, because she uncrosses her arms and sighs.

“I’d like to feel more relaxed in bed,” Juan says. He scans Estella’s face, and exhales.

They both seem to be recalibrating and taking in what I’ve said. Many people need reassurance that there’s nothing wrong or abnormal about them simply because they have sexual fantasies. Learning that sexual fantasies are a healthy aspect of sexual functioning can help lower a couple’s anxiety.

“I’ll try my best not to worry so much about what you’re thinking,” Estella says.

“Here’s my recommendation,” I say. “Over the next week, would you be willing to set aside three minutes each day to cultivate a sexual fantasy about each other? Let it be naughty, kinky—whatever. Don’t judge it; just allow it to unfold in your imagination.”