If absence makes the heart grow fonder, could the same apply to abstinence?

That was the question for bestselling author Rea Frey and her husband Alex Holguin, a certified breathwork specialist.

Last year, the couple from Nashville, Tennessee, took a six-month break from sex — joining the 7 per cent of US couples who are embracing celibacy.

But what impact did it have on their marriage — particularly when they were back in the same bedroom? They reveal all to the Daily Mail’s Jane Ridley…

Rea, 43

How ironic that Alex and I bought our first king bed last spring — two months before we chose to sleep in separate rooms and take a six-month break from sex.

Waking up in the master bedroom that first sexless July morning, did I feel any regret that my husband was in the guestroom next-door?

Not one bit! I remember rolling around in the bed by myself, luxuriating in my own personal space.

Privacy aside, even I couldn’t have predicted how our self-imposed celibacy would transform our marriage after years of being in a rut.

Rea Frey and Alex Holguin, pictured on their wedding day in 2010, took a six-month break from sex last July

The couple, pictured with their 12-year-old daughter Sophie, have been together for 15 years

I met Alex in February 2010 at the gym where I worked as a personal trainer and nutritionist.

My previous marriage of five years had ended a year prior and I wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone. I thought the last thing I wanted was kids.

But then I met Alex: a softly-spoken, muscular, semi-professional rugby player. The chemistry was so intense, I slept with him on the second date.

From there, things moved rapidly. We moved in together that June, got married five months later, and I was pregnant within a year.

Throughout it all, our sex life remained explosive. Alex was the most attentive lover and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

But the birth of our beautiful daughter, Sophie, in May 2012 shifted all that. Parenthood was exhilarating but all-consuming. We were still having sex, but with much less frequency.

Like many married couples, almost unconsciously, we had started to let things slide. But, deep down, we longed for the days when we were on fire together. If only there were a simple way to get that back?

The answer came from the unsexiest of corners: my 66-year-old parents.

I found out by chance that they had started sleeping in separate bedrooms in 2017, and worriedly asked if their marriage was in trouble. 

They assured me it was purely for practical reasons. Not only did Dad snore, but he woke up at 3.15am to start his day. Mom needed at least four more hours of sleep and his early starts interfered with her energy levels.

‘Sleep isn’t romantic,’ she was quick to remind me and Alex. ‘It is essential for your well-being.’

Was I skeptical? I’ll admit, a little. But they were still going strong – in fact, they’re celebrating their 48th wedding anniversary this year – so I wondered if there was some truth to it.

Rea, 43, and Alex, 44, met at the gym where she was working as a personal trainer and nutritionist in February 2010

From there, things moved rapidly – they moved in together that June and got married five months later

Last July, Alex and I were discussing our own sleep patterns. I generally get up around 5.30am and creep around the bedroom trying not to wake him before he stirs around 7.30am. We laughed that if we did the same thing as my parents and slept apart, we’d miss each other.

But the joke got us thinking. Yes, we were having sex, but when was the last time we’d had great sex? We could drip candle wax or melted chocolate over each other — but those weren’t the solutions. We had to think outside of the box or, at least, outside of the bedroom walls.

The idea started off as an experiment. But the moment we moved into separate rooms, we agreed to take sex off the table. We could hold hands, cuddle and kiss — but nothing beyond that. If it didn’t work out, then so be it. It was still worth a try.

My joy that first morning was immediate. And, if anything, my happiness only grew. Within a few days, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Abstinence relieved the pressure of ‘performing’, so-to-speak.

People are always talking about the ‘right’ number of times to have sex. Is once a week too little? Is once a day too much? It breeds a ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ mentality: if you’re not having sex as often as you ‘should’ be, you start to feel inadequate.

Like a lot of women, I sometimes felt similar insecurities about my body. But, when we stopped having sex, even those began to shrink. Inevitably I became more accustomed to pleasuring myself and, through that self-exploration, felt more comfortable in my own skin.

All the while, Alex and I were leaning to be interdependent instead of co-dependent. Abstinence gave us the space to celebrate other aspects of our marriage: going for walks in the park, meditating, eating our favorite Italian food.

As for our daughter Sophie, she wasn’t fazed by the arrangement at all. If anything, she got more attention than usual. She’d come into my bedroom to play cards or talk or snuggle — then go straight to Alex’s to do the same.

There was never a time frame on how long we would go without sex. We had constant check-ins: ‘Are we ready yet?’ or ‘Do we want to put this back on the table?’ But we both knew we didn’t want to have sex once and then fall back into the pattern of not doing it for weeks.

Abstinence gave them space to celebrate other parts of their marriage: going for walks in the park, meditating, eating their favorite Italian food

Sophie wasn’t fazed by the arrangement at all. If anything, she got more attention than usual

Six months went by before we decided we were done. In January, we began speaking about how far we’d both come in terms of our self-development.

We talked about it for a couple of days before, eventually, we knew we were ready. ‘This is about to happen, isn’t it?’ I said to Alex.

That afternoon, we sent Sophie to stay with my parents. We were left alone in the house, face to face in the kitchen.

We barely exchanged looks before pouncing on each other. We began to kiss, slowly at first, then more passionately.

We moved from the kitchen to Alex’s bedroom, slowly undressed each other and took our time. When a man has gone without sex for so long, you might think it would last all of 30 seconds. But it was the opposite — a marathon session lasting more than two hours.

I can only compare it to being back in high school and the first flush of love. The endorphins flowed I felt wanted, needed and satisfied.

Re-consummating our marriage got our sex life back on track — and now it couldn’t be better. It was never meant to be about having longer, powerful orgasms, it was about appreciating our own needs. But, trust me, I’ve experienced them anyway.

Three months on, and we still have separate bedrooms so we can sleep well. We’ve also created a business and podcast that helps people limit distractions in a hyperconnected world. 

Are we having sex every day? No. Are there still times when we don’t have sex for a week or two? Sure. But it’s not an issue any more.

What matters is that, when we do connect, it’s the most explosive experience.

Three months since ending their period of abstinence, and Rea and Alex still sleep in separate bedrooms

Alex, 44

When Rea and I discussed taking a break from sex last July, I immediately felt cynical.

Surely, I thought, sleeping in separate bedrooms would lead to problems. What if we started arguing? What if we split up? What if it all went badly, horribly wrong?

That was before I even got to the other questions: What’s my family going to say? Will my friends think it’s weird?

Much of this anxiety stemmed from my own parents who, unlike Rea’s, are no longer together. They’d divorced when I was five and, as a result, I tended to be very conflict-avoidant.

But, when I sat down and really thought about it, I realized it was best to ignore other people’s opinions. Just because I used to play rugby professionally, there was no need to be all alpha male or macho about it. This was about me and Rea — it was at least worth a shot.

Even though we were still attracted to each other, we both knew our sex life was long overdue for a check-up. Like many couples who’ve been together a long time, we were neglecting our needs more and more. We’d been consumed by the demands of work, parenthood and everyday stresses. It was time to take action — albeit extreme.

Everything changed from the moment we started sleeping apart. The pressure was off. I no longer had to worry about whether I finished first, was going to last or was taking too long. Now I could refocus.

Believe me, it wasn’t as if I went without sex for that six-month period. No, that doesn’t mean I was unfaithful: I made masturbation a priority.

Alex was more cynical when they discussed taking a break from sex, worrying that it might even lead to divorce

At the end of the day, taking care of myself is more important than some narrative about how marriage should be. How could I look after Rea and Sophie if I wasn’t looking after myself? Masturbation allowed me to prioritize my own needs — both physical and emotional.

After a few weeks, I even started to tell my friends. Shocked, they’d often ask, ‘How long are you doing this for?’ or ‘Are you guys in trouble?’ But we’d assure them we were happier than ever. The experiment never caused the arguments I’d feared. Our strategy was working.

By January, I found Rea hotter than ever! It felt like the right time to end the experiment — and Rea agreed.

Creating newness in a 15-year relationship is a spectacular achievement. When I see other couples who’ve fallen out of love or are struggling to bond, I can only recommend the same experience.

Practising celibacy for six months might seem counter-intuitive. But, in mine and Rea’s case, it led to greater closeness — and even greater fireworks.