What Did I Do that was Wrong? 04

I waited while they clung to one another, and then after a couple of minutes she pulled back, kissed him, said, "hi baby," and smiled at me through her tears.

They slowly moved to their chairs and sat down. Leanne slid her chair over close to Mark's, so she could hold his hand, and he didn't seem to mind.

"I'm glad you're both here," I said. "I know this has been a very hard time for both of you.

"Mark, I think Leanne really needs to understand why you left that night. Of course she has a general idea, but it would help if you could share the specific things with her, the things we've talked about."

Mark nodded, but he didn't speak right away. He gently detached himself from Leanne's hand, and got up and walked to the far side of the room, where he leaned against the wall.

"I'm sorry for what I did, Leanne," he said. "Leaving like that—it seems kind of cowardly to me now, and it must have upset you a lot. I'm sorry."

Leanne just nodded. She was watching him very carefully, her hands clutched together in her lap.

"It was a bunch of things, I guess. Well, the one big thing you know about—still not ... still struggling to get past all the images in my head, you with Theo, you with faceless strangers. And wondering: how many, how often, when and where? Did you like it better with them? What did it mean about you and me?"

I could see Leanne wanted to reply, but I urged her to wait with a small gesture of my hand.

"Then there were a couple of specific things, just before I left." Mark told Leanne about watching "Unfaithful", and she smiled sadly, understanding what he was saying. Then he told her about their lovemaking the last night they were together, and what she'd said afterwards--"baby, you're the best—the absolute best"—and how that had tormented him.

Leanne cried, "but Mark, I didn't..."

"I know, I know," he said. "I know what you meant, Leanne, I really do—it was a loving thing to say. But I just couldn't help turning it into something really different, a reminder of all the men out there you could be comparing me to." He was still leaning against the wall, his fists clenched a little, looking at nothing. Leanne was quiet again.

"And then, in the middle of the night, I went to take the garbage out to the trash cans and caught the bag on a rake, and when it all spilled out I saw a box of condoms."

Leanne's head jerked up—she stared at him, looking a little pale.

"I couldn't help myself. I searched through the entire bag and found five unused ones. And I sat there and thought about the other seven, and what you must have used them for. And I just ... I just, you know, sort of fell apart."

Leanne looked at me anxiously and I nodded, but gave her a signal that meant "gently".

She turned to Mark and picked up her purse, an enormous dark blue leather one that she carried over her shoulder.

"Honey, do you remember I showed you this new purse that weekend? I told you the old black one was falling apart, so I went shopping and found this new one that I really liked?"

He nodded at her, his face stiff, and she went on.

"That Monday I sat down and transferred all my stuff out of the black one into this new one. And naturally I threw away the condoms, because I didn't need them anymore. I used to carry them with me, but that's all over with.

"You know that, don't you?" Her voice sounded very tense. "You know that I haven't been with anybody else since that day with Theo?"

He nodded again, and said, "yes, Leanne. I believe you."

She went on. "So it was just that I'd never gotten around to cleaning out my purse—never even thought of it until I bought a new one. And I didn't want you to have to see the condoms, so I jammed the box way down into the bottom of the trash bag.

"I'm so sorry, Mark!" She began to cry.

Mark relaxed, a little, and after a moment he came back to his chair and held Leanne's hand. She kept crying, but looked at him and tried to smile. He put his arm around her, and gently kissed her cheek. I waited.

"It's all right, honey," he said finally. "Just bad luck I guess, me tearing the damn bag open. It wasn't anybody's fault."

We all sat for a few minutes, with them holding one another gently as Leanne calmed down and dried her eyes.

"This has been an emotional session," I said, "but I'm so glad that you're here together again.

"Do you think we could possibly meet again tomorrow?" They both nodded, and we scheduled a time.

"Good," I said. "Now—about tonight. Mark, are you ready to go home again?"

He nodded, and Leanne smiled at him, squeezing his hand tightly.

"Okay. Why don't you both go get Mark's stuff from the hotel and take it home. Tonight I want you to have a quiet evening—watch TV or something, be kind to one another, but don't try to talk about anything. We'll pick up tomorrow with the things we have to discuss, but for tonight just enjoy one another's company."

I watched them leave my office arm in arm, and smiled to myself. One step at a time, I thought.

****************

The next day was just as emotional. I had Mark tell Leanne about his weekend with Liz. She took it quietly, but it was obvious that it bothered her. By the end of his story she was huddled in her chair, her arms tightly folded over her chest.

"Leanne?" I asked. "Are you all right? Can you talk about how you're feeling?"

Mark and I both waited, and she said, "I'm ... okay, Tom. It hurt, imagining Mark with her, but mainly ... mainly it scared me. She sounds so pretty, and so enthusiastic. How can I compete with that? I'm older and saggier and heavier and..."

Mark said, "you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He said it quietly, but she heard him and it drew her up short. It was perfect. They gazed at each other silently, and then smiled.

"Really?" she said, shyly, and he nodded back at her, smiling.

"Really," he said.

I waited for them to enjoy the moment, all of it; and only when it had passed did I speak again.

"Mark, could you tell Leanne briefly about the ... encounter with Liz that you and I talked about? When you had sex with her slowly?"

He recounted it to her, telling her all about how I'd pointed out the similarities to the encounter with Theo that he'd seen. She listened gravely, and then turned to me.

"So you told him that fucking sometimes looks like making love? Even when it isn't?"

"That's not how I put it, but yes," I replied. "Sex can be slow and tender, but that doesn't necessarily make it any more intimate, or profound or meaningful.

"If two people who love one another are doing it, then they're making love. If two people are having a casual fuck, that's fine too; but it isn't making love—not in the same way."

Leanne turned to Mark. "Did that help at all, Mark? Hearing about it that way from Tom?"

"A little—no, I guess more than that. It still ... it still hurts a lot, the image I have in my head of you and Theo. But I can also imagine what Liz and I must have looked like, and I know that that was just casual, fun sex. It wasn't any sort of threat to what you and I have."

He smiled. "My feelings about it haven't caught up to what my mind tells me, but I think I'll get there."

I jumped in at that point, because I needed to give them their marching orders. I had a plan for how to get them back on track.

"Okay, let's talk for a minute about the next week. I'd like to see you both together again a week from today, but in the meantime I have a couple of instructions. Did you have any sexual contact last night?"

They shook their heads, and Mark said, "we were a little scared to, I think. We had a nice dinner and watched TV, cuddled a little, but then just went to sleep. We didn't talk about it, but I think we both felt the same way."

"Good," I said. "For the coming week I want you to do more of the same. Be as affectionate as you want to be—lots of cuddling, touching, kissing if you feel like it. Treat each other lovingly, give each other back-rubs or foot massages if you want, but no sex. I want you to have a little time to get back in touch physically without any of the pressure of actual sex."

They both agreed right away, looking a bit relieved rather than disappointed, and we said our goodbyes.

****************

When the following week's session arrived Mark and Leanne seemed happier and more relaxed. Leanne in particular was bursting to tell me how they were doing.

"It was so strange, Tom! It was terrific, actually"—Mark nodded at this—"but it felt like being back in high school.

"The first couple of days we just cuddled a little at night, but as the week went on we started getting more and more turned-on. By Tuesday [two days before our session] we were both ready to jump each other, but we kept telling ourselves to wait. We've been ... necking, and it's been really hard not to go further."

Mark broke in. "Last night Leanne REALLY wanted to do something, so I suggested we ... masturbate for one another. I figured since it wasn't touching each other it would be all right."

"And how did that go?" I asked, very neutrally.

They looked a tiny bit embarrassed. "It was fantastic," Leanne said. "We'd never done that for one another, at the same time and with the lights on and everything. We both were so worked-up it didn't take long at all."

"And as soon as it was over," Mark said, "I jumped up out of my chair and went to lie down on the bed with Leanne, and just hugged and kissed her. I simply HAD to be touching her—and since we'd both just had our orgasms I hoped that would be okay. I couldn't help it, I needed to be holding her."

"That sounds fine," I said with a grin. "And I'm not going to torture you any further—the rules for this week are completely different.

"You can have sex as much as you want this week—any sort of sexual contact that you both want. Including none, of course, whenever one or both of you aren't in the mood.

"But—here's the kicker—everything you do sexually has to be something you've never done before, in at least some respect. So: intercourse in a position you've never tried together, or some other form of sexual contact you haven't experienced, or sex in a brand-new location. Nothing should be a repeat of anything you've done together in the past."

Mark said, "so, like missionary position would be okay if we did it, say, up on the roof?"

I laughed and said, "exactly. Or sex in your bed would be okay, if it's a position you've never tried before."

Leanne said, "honey, how about if we stop at the Barnes & Noble on the way home? I'll bet we can find a copy of the Kama Sutra..."

They left my office nearly giggling, and I was very pleased. The goal of course was to get them out of old patterns, and put them in situations where they had to react freshly to one another. I wanted to give them some time to succeed sexually, with their old memories and fears kept at bay by the need to be doing something new.

****************

Leanne and Mark were a happy couple again the following week. They alternated stories, with lots of laughter, of the various things they'd tried—some fun, others not.

Mark said, "Leanne found one called 'Don't Go' that I really liked. It's intercourse lying down, on our sides, except that Leanne's head is down by my knees. Her legs are wrapped around me, and I can caress her, uh, her buttocks."

Leanne liked that one too, but said, "I liked the 'Sexy Scissors' even better. I was on my back at the edge of the bed, and Mark held my legs straight up against his chest. While he was inside me he kept opening and closing them—it was amazing! First I was tight, squeezing him, and then I was so wide open ..." She looked as though she wanted to describe it some more, but then stopped, a little embarrassed.

They continued in this vein for some minutes. Clearly the week had been a success.

"Okay," I said. "For this week, anything you like, but you take turns being in charge. Leanne, tomorrow is your day. Any kind of sex you want, as much or as little as you want, any way you want it—including none. You decide, Mark goes along with you. Then the next day Mark is in charge. You alternate days until next week. All right?"

We talked about it a little. They seemed excited, but a little concerned about asking for something that the other might not like. I said, "you love each other, and you know one another very well. I'm not worried that you'll stop being concerned for each other's feelings—but I want each of you to have a chance to get just the kind of sexual experience you want.

"And I think you may find that it's a lot of fun being the non-dominant one, knowing you're giving your partner just what she or he wants."

Again they were happy, leaving the office. "So far so good," I though to myself, wondering how long I could keep this up.

****************

I was still seeing Leanne and Mark individually each week; and those sessions were a lot more serious. With Mark I was trying to open him up, trying to get him to talk about his feelings, and work through the continuing struggle with jealousy and worries about his inadequacies as a lover. The weekend with Liz had clearly helped, but it didn't make the problem go away.

One week when he came in I asked him very bluntly, "Mark, are there things about Leanne's encounters with other men that you want to know? Should we talk about your having a discussion with her?"

He looked at me. "What keeps driving me crazy, Tom—even though I can sort of see that it doesn't really matter—is how many men. Was she screwing another guy once a month? or twice a month, or, God help me, three times a week?

"And I guess I also can't help wondering how often she saw the same guy, whether it ever turned into anything more "connected", if you know what I mean—more emotional."

I watched him as he talked; Mark had clenched his fists, apparently without realizing it.

"Let's talk about those two questions," I said. "Just for the sake of speculation, what do you think would have been the minimum for Leanne in terms of other men, and what would have been the maximum?"

"I don't know, maybe once every other month at a minimum. For a maximum—shit, twice a week? I don't know how she would have had time for that, but her schedule selling real estate has always been pretty flexible."

"So in four years, then, it might have been about 24 encounters, if it was every other month. Or it might have been as many as 400, if it was twice a week—though that seems unlikely."

"You don't know?" he asked, looking at me hard; it was easy to see how painful this was for him.

"No," I said, "Leanne and I haven't talked about the numbers part of it.

"But tell me—how does it feel different? How does it feel inside you thinking about a couple of dozen, as opposed to a couple of hundred? That's what really matters."

A long silence. "If it's four-hundred," he said, very slowly, "then she's a whore. And I'm not sure I can live with a whore, even if it's somebody I love as much as Leanne."

"But if it's 25 then it's okay?"

He shrugged, with a look that suggested he was aware of the absurdity of what he was saying.

"I know it doesn't make sense, Tom, but I—the idea of Leanne with hundreds of guys just disgusts me. I can see them, lined up outside our bedroom, the line stretching down the hall and out the front door onto the street; and inside Leanne is lying in bed naked, calling out "Next!" each time a guy finishes fucking her."

He looked tormented. "How can I ... how can I see that picture in my head, and go on loving her? Go on making love to her?"

I waited a long time before I spoke. "Well, first, Mark, you have to realize that that picture is one YOU invented—it doesn't bear any relationship to the reality, does it?"

He shook his head, and I went on.

"What we know is that Leanne occasionally had sexual encounters with other men. Discreetly, and almost never in your home. With your permission, don't forget. And you told me that she said there were no ongoing love affairs..."

"But what does that mean, exactly?" Mark interrupted me. "She said she'd ... been with Theo three or four times. But was that her maximum? For all I know, there were other guys she fucked for months!"

We sat in silence for a minute or two.

"Mark, I think you have a decision to make. It seems to me there are two ways to think about this, and two ways to move forward.

"The first is to say, that was all in the past—it's over now. Leanne has told you she's committed to being completely faithful, and you believe her, right?"

He nodded, and I went on.

"So one alternative is simply to accept that the past is going to bother you whenever you think about it, but that it's past—and that over time you'll think about it less and less. No need to poke a stick into it and stir it up.

"The other option is to say, 'I don't think that's going to work—it bothers me too much to just put aside, and I need to ask Leanne to tell me more'.

"But in that case, obviously, you have to be sure that you're ready to hear the answers. If you think that Leanne's answers might drive you away from her, is it really worth asking the questions?"

I knew that the Mark who had first come into my office several months earlier would have chosen option one: push it away, try not to think about it. But that hadn't been working, and I was not surprised when the Mark sitting across from me chose option two.

"I ... guess I have to ask, Tom. I'll try not to jump all over her, but not knowing is just driving me crazy. And imagining things feels worse than what knowing the actual truth will feel like, or at least I think so."

He looked reflective, and said, "I guess I've changed a lot, huh? When I first came to see you I was the king of sweeping things under the rug."

"Yeah," I said, "but that wasn't working so well, as I recall."

He just laughed, a bit ruefully.

****************

At my next session with Leanne I said, "Mark's going to ask you some things."

"Like?"

"Like how many men; like how often you had sex with them at your house, and whether it was ever in your bed; like how many times you saw the same guy, whether it ever turned into an emotional connection. And probably—again—why you had to do it."

She looked serious. "And does my marriage depend on my answers?"

"I don't really know," I said. "It might. But I don't see anything that you or I can do about it. Mark needs to hear the truth from you, and then we have to help him handle it. And there are lots of ways to say things, ways that are more or less tactful and sensitive while still being true.

"I think we should spend today's session talking about those."

"Okay," she said, nodding. "A little rehearsal, in a way. That's fine with me."

****************

Mark and Leanne both looked tense when they came in together that week. I asked them how taking turns sexually had gone, though, and that brought some smiles.

Leanne said, "I think Mark liked it—but I just LOVED it!"

She giggled. "It was just so ... so luxurious to lie back and have him please me exactly the way I wanted it, for as long as I wanted. And he made me—well, let's just say he left me really tired and really satisfied!"

Mark smiled and said, "it was fun for me too. In a way, pleasing Leanne on her days was even better than being the boss on my days. To know that I was doing just what she wanted, just what pleased her the most, and to see her pleasure ... it just felt good."

"I loved that too, when it was my turn," Leanne broke in. "Being, like, Mark's little sex-geisha, just serving him however he wanted—that was hot!"

"Good," I said. "It seems as though the last few weeks, with these crazy rules I've given you, have worked out just as I hoped they would. You've had some fun, done some new things, and maybe learned a little more about what each of you likes, and what your partner likes.