Do INFJs Have a High Sex Drive?

I know you’re curious. I am too. But we don’t talk about these things… with hardly anyone. So, let’s make an exception here and be real and honest for a few minutes. Then we can go back to acting like we don’t want to talk about it, okay? 

It’s a whole thing… 

I got an email from Lauren White, an INFJ sexologist, a few months ago. She loves my blog, Instagram and Podcast and politely asked if she could be a guest. My eyebrows went up as I read her website and I got uncomfortable. How could I talk openly about this subject?? How could I do it without blushing and laughing uncomfortably a lot? I’d have to put sentences together about something I don’t even talk to my friends about? (Can you see the anxiety on my face?)

I quickly closed her website and her email and tried to ignore it. But that feeling of not wanting to be rude haunted me. But not enough to respond right away. I looked at the email everyday, just sitting there in my inbox, bugging me. One day I started thinking, “What am I afraid of?” 

What am I afraid of?

That’s a good question. Why am I hiding from this subject? I really want to help other people and I also really want to know the answer. I’ve seen some people write about INFJs and being very fiesty, so I thought, why not? And who better to ask this question to! I’m so glad that I did too. 

Lauren is an amazing and wonderful person so talk to. She’s so sweet and disarming. We had a great conversation about putting yourself out there and being open to new things, which a lot of times INFJs struggle with. 

You can hear the whole conversation here. 

So…. do we? 

I know you want to know, because this was the question I was dying to ask her. Do INFJs have a high sex drive? Here’s what she said

“Rather than high sex drive, I’m gonna say we’ve got a high libido. I think we’ve got a high interest in sex and the sexual. And we have a very rich fantasy world. 

“How that translates to the act of sex and being physical in sex, I don’t know that it always translates. I think that we are very comfortable having this rich inner world of safe fantasy and what could be possible and really getting romantic and deep intimacy and exploring the taboo. Whether we actually go and do those things is another question.” 

Laruen, this is not the answer we were all looking for and wanting, but it really does make sense to me. 

I did an informal poll in the INFJ Community group and out of 30 people who responded 18 said spending quality time with their partner was how they feel loved. But a third of respondents said physical touch was a close second. 

Here’s what I think

INFJs crave connection. We want deep intimacy. That craving is almost painful at times. We want someone to love us in ways that no one else has ever done, in ways that we didn’t even think were possible.

Like Lauren said, we spend a lot of time in our head thinking about how we want to be loved, imagining every detail. More than just physical intimacy, we want to be seen and understood on an intellectual and emotional level. We want someone to share our thoughts and hopes and dreams with. We want someone to understand our intuition and our “knowing” of some things. We want someone who’s comfortable being deep and dark at times. 

But we also crave someone that we can be ourselves with, who will enjoy our sense or humor and our need to be cautious and organized. Someone who is comfortable in the quiet and loves solitude.  

We are all about you

When we feel that connection, we are the type to think about what our partner wants and give it to them. We spend more time being focused on them and making sure that they are happy than we do thinking about us. It’s a blessing and a curse. But at the end of the day, what really makes us happy is knowing that our partner is satisfied and feels loved. 

It’s true what they say. You would be very fortunate, indeed, to have an INFJ as a partner. 

3 thoughts

  1. Dear Sarah, I can’t say I learned a lot from this article.
    My INFJ Sexperience, in retrospect, was mainly this: First the man does something he doesn’t really like (but pretends he does) for me (who of course feels his resentment and ends up pretending to like what he does), then I am supposed to do things I really loathe for him (all while pretending to like them a lot, because otherwise the whole thing turns into an endless nightmare), upon which I will have to endure dubious compliments about what a dirty rotten sl.t I were, and finally heave a sigh of relief to see him walk out the door. Anyone still wondering why I allowed this to occur just once in a blue moon? Inside my head things are a different world entirely. Stradivaris, there, are played by virtuosos only, with not one hint of any clumsy lumberjacks to mistreat the instrument.
    All the best, Ingrid

    1. Ingrid, I’m sorry you didn’t like my blog post. I guess my writing and opinions aren’t for everyone.

      It’s really sad that your experience with intimacy has been so miserable. Perhaps you should find a new partner who actually knows what they are doing. It shouldn’t be a horrible experience like what you described. I can assure you, it’s not like that for everyone. All the best. – Sarah

      1. Dear Sarah,

        your deep insight everywhere else I’ve been reading your texts left me very curious about what there might be to learn in the one field I haven‘t a clue yet, despite my advanced age.

        It is highly improbable I‘ll stoop to letting myself be touched ever again: Obviously, after each such experience I found it increasingly taxing to muster the trust indispensable to even begin letting someone get closer than handshake distance.
        The jocular compliance I‘d trained myself to put on display was by and by turning into the much more authentic grimace of grin-and-bear, as one after the other, no matter how many years had passed in-between, the men proved to be either exactly the same as – or worse than their predecessors. Of course I put my best foot forward to remain optimistic.
        Consequently I reached menopause in full denial, estrogen-induced as it seems, for along with my hormones went my self-deceit – the hope for an exception to the rule.
        Now, turning 59, I ask myself what made me adhere to the old song and dance, just because everybody else does. That’s not like me.

        When one finds out that throughout their life they just can’t digest a certain dish, why force oneself to eat it? I’m better without, and what‘s best: My dreams are left unscathed by reality. No need to be sad for me.

        All the best,
        Ingrid

Leave a Reply to admin Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s