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She is in her mid-40s, tall, voluptuous, beautiful by any standard, intelligent, successful in her profession within the civil service. I recognize that her tale is not simple; so many marriages do not fit the definition of “to love and cherish from this day forward.” But I don’t yet see why she did it. I was really attractive when I was a teenager and intimidating to young guys. We’ve never been able to communicate when things aren’t going well. I said, ‘I think sleeping together is a very intimate act and we don’t have that kind of intimacy. He’s very handsome and fit—and he’s got a really big cock. Suddenly, someone declared me beautiful, revelled in my ability to arouse and be aroused, and so the sense of failure was replaced and I was reinvented.
He was very attractive, and at 22 he already had a good job. It hadn’t been acceptable that I’d move out on my own; I think my parents were relieved that someone was going to take care of me. He never said anything, and we never talked about it.” “Nothing? I wanted him to know that I really cared about him, so I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. That was the last time we touched.” “How can you function within the house or when you have friends over? “I told my husband I was going on a shopping trip to Toronto.
“When we got engaged, we started to have sex and I really liked it. In the afternoon I went to Victoria’s Secret and spent US on a pair of lacy black panties! Later we walked around the neighbourhood with his dog, talking and laughing and holding hands. I cried from the time he said goodbye to when I landed in Ottawa.” I watch across the table at how the romance of it all holds her still.
It was my first experience and I knew nothing at all. I thought you could only have one orgasm, so when I felt it building I’d suppress it because I didn’t want things to be over too soon. He booked a room for me with a king-size bed and Jacuzzi. I thought I was ready mentally, but I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of it. As with the brief Portland affair, the descriptions of dresses, underwear, flowers, how he opened the car door or held her chair, remain in vivid detail.
As the wedding got closer, I did begin to have doubts, but you get so wrapped up in plans, and by then the dress was bought and the reception hall was booked. There was no way I could call off the wedding.” Laura relaxes as she speaks, searching for cause and effect, a little surprised at her own daring in telling me these things. But sex wasn’t as good as it was before we got married. His room was on my floor and he was waiting for me. It was a very long corridor and he was standing at the end, but I couldn’t really see him as there was a window behind him and the light coming in made him just a dark shadow. The sex happened quite quickly and didn’t last long, perhaps because we’d had a bit to drink, but it was exciting to have someone touch my body. I’d never been unfaithful, and so the fact that I’d planned every step, knowing what was going to happen in the end, was too much for me. She was loved, “the whole package.” The scenes she paints—the cornfield, the dog, the request for a kiss—are the scenes of a movie.
I recall being 19, desperate for love, or at least for an idea of love—an escape from life in my parents’ house. I think because it wasn’t taboo anymore there was no excitement. Walking down that hall toward him was one of the most exciting moments of my life. I spent the whole day in bed with the curtains drawn. It is still the fairy tale, still dressed with sugared almonds.
Friends dreamt of bridal gowns and sugared almonds and happily-ever-after; I desired a garret and its resident poet. The second night we went out for dinner but didn’t do anything. We continued to write, and I was hoping that we’d still be able to get together once in a while. ” “He’d been married less than two years, Laura,” I said. “I went back to the chat room because I liked the interaction and the flirting. Matthew was divorced, a successful lawyer in Florida. I opened up a post office box so he could send me real letters and photos—his dog, his kids, house, car, friends. “We drove home through the back roads and passed alongside a cornfield. I said I’d love to walk through that, and he stopped the car and we walked through this tall, tall corn. I recall her comment on how good premarital sex had been, how the taboo of it heightened the thrill, how the thrill dissipated within convention.
“Then seven years ago my father died, only a short time after the death of my mother. I remember him patting me on the back, telling me it would all be fine. A little after that he was ill and we slept apart for a week or so. It was as if a switch had been turned on all of a sudden. And I hadn’t even slept with a man.” I remember my own first relationship after divorce, rediscovering the pleasures of lust and femininity—things that had imperceptibly seeped away year by year.
It became more and more clear there was an acute void; Ben didn’t even try to fill it. Speaking about these things finally exposes them to daylight, making her consider their meaning. I would initiate things and he’d say, ‘I can’t turn on when you want me to.’ That was a problem because every night I wanted it and I’d think maybe this time, and then nothing. The last time we had sex, ever, halfway through I said, ‘We shouldn’t do this,’ because there were no feelings coming through. Putting creams on my skin was so sensual; when I made the kids’ sandwiches, I’d lick the peanut butter off my finger and feel it was so erotic.
“When I hit my 40s, my libido was suddenly a driving force in my life. I cared for myself, making sure my toenails were done and my legs were shaved.
I seem to think if you don’t talk about something, it doesn’t really exist. I know what it is to live with another human being and yet remain completely alone, to be immersed in mind-numbing predictability. So, the loneliness remains, highlighting the vacant, nondescript apathetic days. I went online to chat rooms, not really wanting anything except connection. We chatted for a long time, and there’d been some telephone calls with sex talk. In his picture he wasn’t very good-looking, kind of geeky. I was attracted to all the attention he was paying me, and by then I was more in touch with my body than ever before.
Ben left that bedroom so easily; he was relieved to return to his sanctuary. And as there have been no real conversations since…well, you see the problem? I met a man online, married, living in the southern states.
Counselling demands a preliminary conversation on why such therapy is necessary.