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"I can't give it to you." I never said the words. But every "not tonight" said it for me. She reached. I made excuses. She initiated. I pretended to sleep. She tried. I shut down. Until she stopped trying altogether. The bedroom didn't die because of her. It died because I was terrified of failing again. Here's what I wish I knew sooner: The fear doesn't go away. But if the blood physically can't leave — you stay firm anyway. Brain panics. Body performs. No pills. No therapy. No "working on yourself." Just certainty. Last week I said yes when she reached for me. She cried after. "I thought you didn't want me anymore." I wanted her the whole time. I was just scared. → See how men are overriding the fear