Here is the answer: if you want Herbert’s libido to go down a notch or two, all you have to do is demand sex with unerring regularity.
I know this can be difficult at first, especially if one has lost the appetite for one’s mate years ago, but if you stick with it, bite the bullet so to speak, it will work. At first he will be entirely delighted, and you will have a tough time, but sooner than you’d expect, he will lose his interest, until, finally, impotence sets in.
I used to have such troubles with impotent men. Simply because I enjoy a healthy appetite. With poor Raoul it got to the point where I demanded he would seek a cure, or we would break up. As he couldn’t bear the thought of living without me, he agreed to let me take him to a clinic in Baden-Baden, Germany. A Kurort with healthy air and hot water spa, and some very strict nurses. I would take strolls with him through the clinic park, he dressed in a bath robe, looking pale, me in normal attire being patient and supportive. It didn’t help, of course. How young and naïve I was.
Raoul and I broke up, but several relationships later I found the Cure. When Andrew (you remember him, the London cardiologist) started to wear those absurd boxer-briefs, my desire for him cooled “like lust in the chill grave”, as Emerson has it. I could hardly bear to look at him, let alone touch him, in that hideous underwear (Andrew I mean, not Emerson). Although at the time I didn’t mean it as an antidote, after 3 months he was completely cured of his impotence. Unfortunately, I no longer wanted him to be. I suppose I might have if he had returned to more appealing underwear, but the relationship had become a little oppressive to me anyway, so we parted ways.
I wish I could get the Nobel Prize for my impotence cure, as I deserve to. But there is little justice in this world, so I expect nothing from Sweden.
Hope this helps!