There are few things less conducive to romance than the sound of a missile siren.
In the past few weeks, a surprising number of couples in my practice have noticed the same frustrating pattern: the moment things start getting interesting in the bedroom, the siren goes off.
To be clear, Iran is not monitoring your sex life. But psychologically, it can certainly feel that way.
Across the country, people are sleeping with one ear tuned to the quiet breathing of the person beside them and the other half-listening for the rising wail of the alarm. Those who share a mamad or a miklat know that at any moment they may have to leap out of bed and sprint for cover, possibly quite literally caught with their pants down.
From a psychological standpoint, the problem is obvious. Intimacy requires a very particular mental state, namely a willingness to soften and surrender. A certain vulnerability that emerges only in an atmosphere of trust, safety, and calm. The nervous system must shift out of vigilance and into what’s called a “parasympathetic state”, the mode that allows the body to relax, connect, and feel pleasure.
War does the opposite.
Rocket alerts keep the brain in threat mode, constantly scanning the environment for danger. When your body believes a sprint for survival may be required at any moment, seduction naturally falls lower on the priority list, even physiologically. It is difficult to feel alluring when part of your executive functioning is busy calculating the distance to the nearest shelter.
Faced with this reality, couples tend to fall into one of two patterns. Some avoid intimacy altogether. It feels easier not to start something that may be abruptly interrupted. Others take the opposite approach, trying to rush things before the next alert. Neither strategy tends to produce particularly satisfying evenings.
There is, however, a third option: accepting the possibility of interruption.
Keep a robe nearby. Know where the slippers are. If the siren sounds, you’ll pause, head to the shelter together, and return afterward. Human history suggests that romance has survived worse disruptions than a Home Front Command notification.
Interestingly, many couples report that once they stop insisting on perfect conditions, something shifts. When the pressure for everything to unfold seamlessly disappears, desire often reappears in quieter ways. Intimacy during stressful periods rarely begins with sweeping romantic gestures. More often it starts with small things like lingering a little longer in an embrace, exchanging a playful glance across the room, and remembering that closeness does not require a perfectly calm world.
Humor, it turns out, helps as well.
One husband recently told me, “At this point, I feel like we’re having a threesome with the siren.” Another joked, “If it goes off again tonight, I’m sending Iran my therapy bill.”
Laughter is one of the nervous system’s most effective ways of releasing tension, reminding the body that not every moment is defined by fear. In that sense, shared humor becomes its own form of intimacy.
There is something beautifully defiant about choosing closeness in uncertain times. War may dominate the news cycle, but it does not control every corner of private life. The headlines may dictate where we travel, how late we stay out, or whether we sleep with the window open. But the small acts of human connection that happen behind closed doors — holding someone, laughing together, choosing tenderness and vulnerability, remain stubbornly beyond its reach.
Continue to reach for one another. Flirt, argue, reconcile, and anchor yourselves in each other amid all the uncertainty. In a world that increasingly feels shaped by forces beyond our control, intimacy becomes one of the few places where we retain genuine agency, don’t allow the decision to choose connection to be wrestled away from you.
Stop waiting for the quiet night. Make a plan for the siren and then live your life. Start. Pause if you must. Return when you can.
Yes, the siren might interrupt.
But don’t hand it the final say.
Put tenderness back on the schedule, however imperfectly, briefly, and stubbornly. Begin anyway.
Intimacy, like most meaningful things, is still worth the risk of a slightly awkward dash to the shelter.