Well Fed, Well Felt, Well F*cked..

Let’s talk about pleasure

By Jemma HARDÉLLE

After a weekend full of intimacy, I’m reminded just how good every hair on my body feels when I’m well-fed, well-felt and well… fucked.

There’s a particular glow that comes from being touched the right way, not just sexually, but emotionally. It’s that nervous system exhale. The moment you stop bracing for rejection and just melt. You feel safe. Desired. Alive.

And let’s be honest, having great intimacy in a long-term relationship isn’t easy. But real intimacy in a short-term connection? Also not the effortless fantasy the movies sell us. Both require awareness, courage, and a willingness to be seen, without the filters, without the “I’m fine,” without the faking.

Where intimacy actually begins

For me, intimacy starts long before anyone’s naked. It begins with a text.
That playful voice note.
The moment you grin at your phone because someone sees you.

The slow drift into sexlessness never happens overnight. It starts in the micro-misses — the “bids for connection” that get ignored: the partner who shares something small and gets silence back, the moment you turn away instead of turning toward.

Those tiny rejections build. They bruise. Until one day, you’re back-to-back in bed, the glow of Netflix lighting up your sexless room like a third wheel that never leaves.

As a therapist, I see it all the time. Couples say they’ve “lost the spark,” but they haven’t lost it they’ve just stopped noticing each other and stopped feeding each other.

From maintenance sex to meaningful sex

There’s a world of difference between sex and pleasure. They’re not always invited to the same party.

Sometimes we slip into that grey zone, the space between duty and desire, where sex becomes something to tick off the list before sleep.

We can only do “maintenance sex” for so long before we lose interest or someone’s eyes start to wander, before the colleague at work who actually listens starts to look annoyingly attractive.

For arousal to align, pleasure has to take the driver’s seat. Not performance. Not pressure. Pleasure.

Try asking yourself and your partner if you have one or more.
• What gives you pleasure outside of sex?
• What words or gestures make you feel desired?
• Where have roles, resentment or routine replaced curiosity and connection?
• What makes your body feel safe enough to open?

Because pleasure isn’t just physical, it’s relational that includes the relationship with yourself. When you’re emotionally nourished and mentally held, the body follows. When you’re well fed, well felt… the Eros wakes up all on its own.

Love as a mirror

We don’t fall in love with another person; we fall in love with the version of ourselves they awaken.

Love isn’t something we chase, it’s something we remember through the mirrors others hold for us.

The right connection doesn’t complete you; it reveals you. It shows your capacity to love, to surrender, to play. It reminds you of the parts you buried to survive, the sensual one, the silly one, the one who wants to be held without fear.

That’s why intimacy is terrifying: to touch another deeply, we must meet ourselves. Every great lover is a mirror, showing us where we’re ready to expand, and where we’re still hiding.

So when I talk about pleasure, I’m not just talking about sex. I’m talking about self-recognition. About remembering what your body, your heart, your soul are capable of when you finally stop pretending you don’t need to be seen.

What’s your part in this story? 

Pleasure as a practice

How often do you deliberately feed your pleasure?

The food you eat. The scent you wear. The playlist that makes your hips move. The way sunlight hits your skin.

Choosing pleasure daily is how we prime the body for desire. It’s not about waiting for your libido to “come back.” It’s about inviting it back by creating safety, softness, and curiosity.

In therapy, I often reframe “low libido” not as a flaw, but as a signal, your body saying:
“I need space. I need safety. I need to be felt before I can open.”

Safety, connection, and Eros

If you’re in relationships and sex is still on the table, even if it’s not the kind where you’re ripping each other’s clothes off, open up the conversation to include some of these prompts to build intimacy. Create space to be seen, and to stay curious.

Before:
• Is there any part of your body that doesn’t want to be touched today?
• What will make you feel safe right now?
(As bush firefighters say: you only move at the pace of the slowest person.)

During:
• Notice your partner’s breathing. Are they holding their breath? Are you breathing in sync? Are you remembering to kiss — and to open your eyes?!
• Check in: “Does this pace feel good?”
• Stay curious, not performative.

After:
• What did you enjoy the most?
• What would you like more of (or less of) next time?
• What kind of aftercare do you need this week?

For me, sometimes aftercare is a well-worded text. A flashback text, a meme (probably with cats). A small sign that says, “I’m still thinking of you.”

That’s intimacy. That’s Eros.

When things feel stuck

If your relationship feels flat, if you’re living somewhere between resentment and routine ,start with curiosity, not confrontation.

If you’ve forgotten what pleasure feels like, or can’t find your way back to each other or to yourself, talk to someone. No shame. No judgement.

This is my favourite kind of work, helping people rediscover what turns them on, what brings them close, and what makes them feel alive again.

Because desire doesn’t die.
It just relocates, to wherever it feels seen, safe, and invited to breathe.

Create the space, create the connection and the spark follows. 

Quality over quantity 

Masks off.
JH x