The creative use of learnable skills
helps keep passion alive as intimacy deepens.
Nowhere are the paradoxes of the erotic mind played out more delicately, boisterously, and sometimes tragically, than in the crucible of committed, enduring relationships. One paradox, surely the cruelest, is that those couples who achieve the close, emotional connection that virtually all of us crave inevitably end up softening if not eliminating the obstacles necessary for passionate sex. Dr. Tripp describes this unwelcome reality:
As the partners make the necessary compromises to achieve a high contact with each other, they win intimacy and a genuine closeness, benefits which contribute to the comforts of daily living and to their ability to get along with each other. For a time, their sexual compatibility soars as well…. But all this blending and complementation not only does not contribute to the lastingness of sexual attraction, it soon begins to dissolve it. Thus, in well-balanced ongoing relationships, the compatibility of the partners tends to progressively improve while their erotic zest for each other markedly declines.
Conversely, a genuine closeness is notable by its absence in the most intense forms of erotic interest, including the high romance that can so disconsolingly occur between utterly mismatched partners. Thus it is in new relationships and in marriages torn by fights and clashes—that is, where complementations and details of compatibility have not been worked out—that the highest erotic excitements flourish.1
According to the ideals of love and marriage to which most of us subscribe, deepening affection and closeness are supposed to coexist with a dependable, satisfying sex life. However, the difficulty millions of couples have in combining closeness with sexual enthusiasm is evident in the steady stream of books and articles about keeping the spark in marriage. Marital experts often insist that waning passion is the result of poor communication skills, a lack of intimacy and trust, or unresolved conflicts. While it’s true that any of these can lead to unsatisfying sex, it is most definitely not true that good relationships automatically lead to good sex. In fact, my observations match those of Dr. Tripp. It is often in the best relationships that passion becomes most elusive.
I’m also convinced that couples who openly confront the difficulties of combining intimacy and passion are the ones most likely to thrive. It is crucial to acknowledge that closeness and sexual desire are not one and the same, but rather two separate, yet interacting experiences. Their rhythms vary tremendously according to how each relationship begins and unfolds.
Although many have attempted to codify the stages of committed love, the fact is that no two partnerships follow exactly the same course.2 Nor is it possible to predict with confidence which couplings will endure and which won’t. I’m sure you’ve known partners who appeared to detest each other yet stayed together anyway. Conversely, other couples who seem genuinely to care for each other surprise everyone when they separate.
Love refuses to conform to rational notions about how it should begin, progress, flourish, or die. Nonetheless, the vast majority of couples I’ve worked with grapple with similar turning points in the development of their relationships, each with implications for the quality of their interaction—both in and out of bed.
The emergence of a couple marks the birth of an entirely new entity. In the formation of we, both the self and the other are changed. Sometimes two people know from the first shared glances that their lives are destined to be intertwined. For others the sense of we-ness that eventually forms the nucleus of a lasting bond builds slowly with innumerable ups and downs. Not only do couples form at different speeds, they also adopt different interpersonal styles based on what draws them together:
Passionate couples are swept up in the intensity created by the dance of opposites.
Companionate couples are founded on mutual understanding, resonance, and comfort.
Pragmatic couples are concerned with practicalities such as availability, money, prestige, or social acceptance.
To some degree, each couple is a blend of styles, but always with a distinct emphasis.
Because passionate connections spring from the magnetism of contrasts, they are the most likely to be cemented, at least initially, by rushes of lusty heat combined with the thrill of limerence. The lovers feel so vibrantly alive and whole that practical questions of compatibility become irrelevant. Consequently, passionate couplings can be fragile, often unraveling as dramatically as they began. But passion can also launch two individuals onto an evolving lifelong odyssey. I’m sure that far fewer of us would ever take the plunge into couplehood without the unbridled passion that helps overcome fear and reticence long enough for a genuine bond to take hold.
The passion produced by contrast is one kind of chemistry. Another kind—equally powerful, but less frenetic—occurs when companionate couples bask in the joy of profound similarities and mutual resonance. These partners typically describe each other as soul mates or best friends. Whereas passionate lovers may use the terminology of friendship to express feelings of oneness, they sense their relationship is quite different from other friendships, a fact their friends definitely notice.
Companionate lovers really do feel and act like friends. Most of them enjoy sex, especially at first, but recognize the absence of the high intensity they may recall from stormier past relationships. For a time this doesn’t matter because their commonality brings a beautifully quiet passion to their lovemaking. They’re often amazed by how easy it is to be together and quickly settle into a high comfort level with minimal insecurity.
In most cases, an awareness of similarity is friendship, whereas an awareness of difference is passion, so I’m sure it won’t surprise you that while companionate relationships are often highly romantic, some aren’t particularly sexual. A significant portion evolve into friendships, with one or both looking for passion elsewhere. Those who stay together, however, often become highly compatible mates.
Some practical aspects of pair bonding aren’t at all romantic. Pragmatic couples are primarily brought together by convenience or availability, even though neither partner stirs deep passions or elicits a special resonance in the other. Other practical considerations include the ability to be a good provider, reliable mate, or trustworthy parent. Because pragmatic connections begin in the mind rather than the heart—often accepted or rejected after a careful weighing of pros and cons—they tend to be short on magic and zest. In their most extreme form, these relationships have the flavor of a business deal.
Despite their limitations, some pragmatic pairings have amazing staying power, in part because they’re relatively free of the grand expectations and fantasies that often set other couples up for disappointment. And don’t forget that, like all relationships, pragmatic connections evolve. Although it’s quite rare for passions to flare where none existed at the beginning, this does occasionally happen. But it is far more likely for pragmatic couples to develop genuine bonds of affection and respect.
Once two individuals think of themselves as a couple, they begin to find out who, exactly, this fascinating other really is. In a state of high limerence we usually think we know a lot more about our partners than we actually do. Especially if a connection springs from pure passion, much of what we think we see may turn out to be a projection of our fantasy image onto the beloved. Yet passionate attractions are rarely all illusion. We also see in the beloved potentials yet to be realized. Love’s eyes look beyond everyday reality, which can be a blessing as well as a curse.
Because the joy of new love brings out the best in both lovers, many of their early discoveries are happy confirmations of their original attractions. Eventually, though, there will be rude awakenings. Occasionally, distressing secrets come to light. More often there is a gradual realization that characteristics which originally appeared positive also have a negative aspect. For a time Ben loves Melody’s tendency to be absentminded because it reminds him that she is preoccupied with deep thoughts—a quality he admires. Whenever she forgets something, she apologizes with puppy-dog eyes that make Ben melt. A couple of years later when they own a house and Melody consistently misplaces important papers, his patience wears thin. Similarly, Larry is at first strongly attracted to Mark’s confident masculinity and independence, only later to realize that Mark is completely out of touch with his feelings and walks out of the room whenever Larry tries to discuss a problem.
Rude awakenings, and the conflicts that inevitably follow, provide opportunities for the partners to deepen their attachment. Problems arise when lovers become locked in life-or-death power struggles. Partners who once perceived each other as perfect, precious gifts begin to demand changes. When appreciation is overshadowed by criticism and complaint, few people admit how perplexing and hurtful it is to receive disapproval from the very person who once made them feel miraculously whole and lovable.
Many of the rudest awakenings aren’t as much about the other person as they are about yourself. The same love that makes you feel terrific also activates deep vulnerabilities and insecurities. The beloved turns out to posses an uncanny ability to push your buttons, to stir up difficult emotions from the past. You find yourself acting childish or parental even when you don’t want to.
You begin to. notice an annoying sensitivity in your partner, who reacts way out of proportion to your words and actions. Good intentions seem to count for nothing. In the most severe cases partners become so highly reactive that almost any discussion leads to fights and misunderstandings. Both feel under siege, which in turn activates primitive defense mechanisms that make matters infinitely worse.
Almost any rude awakening can undermine a couple’s sex life, particularly when conflicts and resentments accumulate and fester. Of course, some of the rudest awakenings involve sex directly. Almost every couple encounters differences in desired activities, frequency, or timing. Although there may have been subtle hints from the beginning, even serious incompatibilities can be easily concealed by the intensity of new love, especially in relationships founded on fiery passion. Lovers on a romantic high have an uncanny ability to satisfy each other even when they later turn out to be seriously mismatched. As time passes and passions cool, disparities that once seemed inconsequential loom large.
At some point most couples openly announce or quietly assume that they’ve become committed. Couples are usually not in as much agreement about the details of their commitment as they assume, but common expectations include spending regular time together, honoring plans and promises, being available during times of need or trouble, and maintaining sexual exclusivity. Commitments provide security and thus can facilitate sexual pleasure by calming fears of abandonment and rejection. But for those who enjoy the hunt, the thrill of the new, or the focused concentration of courting and being courted, security can quickly become antierotic. Some may associate commitment with being trapped. Rather than craving to be with the beloved, they start to dream of escape.
Commitments inevitably involve obligations, but when commitment and obligation become indistinguishable, the stage is set for serious sexual trouble. Compelling erotic desires are always “want to’s,” whereas obligations are “have to’s.” When freely made, commitments are powerful statements about wanting to sustain a connection and are therefore fully compatible with desire. By contrast, obligations rarely call forth anything more than a grudging willingness to meet them. Partners who perceive their commitment primarily as a set of obligations are heading down a slippery slope that ultimately leads to the dampening of desire.
Couples who weather their rude awakenings and voluntarily renew their commitments despite differences and disagreements typically enter a period of relative calm. They disengage from pointless power struggles as each increasingly takes responsibility for his or her own irrational reactions. Gradually, they learn to see conflicts as opportunities for self-discovery and creative problem-solving.
As they move from conflict to cooperation they redirect some of their energies into projects such as career development, home acquisition and nesting, or conceiving and raising children. During this period many couples also solidify a network of mutual friends and establish rituals such as annual events, vacations, and celebrations. For most couples the early years of settling in are among the most satisfying.
Eventually, however, as the frequency and intensity of sex begin to taper off, signs of sexual cooling become impossible to ignore. In most cases this happens gradually over a period of years. However, if one partner, most likely a man, has trouble feeling love and lust toward the same person, his desire may plummet very quickly after the intensity of early limerence calms. For these men—and some women too—genuine closeness is a complete turn-off.
But even among couples who are capable of enjoying the interplay of love and lust, two opposite forces contribute to a progressive reduction in sexual enthusiasm: (1) boredom and emotional disengagement, and (2) increasing closeness, familiarity, and comfort.
Most couples develop sexual routines. For some these routines are acceptable—even comforting—especially if they are punctuated with occasional surprises. Others are so bored by routine that they find it increasingly difficult to generate sufficient sexual energy to become highly aroused or have orgasms. Without noticing, many also drift apart emotionally. Not only do they spend less time together, they talk about practical matters—such as what to do about the kids, problems with the house, or finances—with fewer of the heart-to-heart discussions that once brought them closer.
As they settle in, other couples become increasingly intertwined. Some grow so close and comfortable that they act more like siblings than lovers; sex might even feel a bit incestuous. Also, the same intimacy that makes for a wonderful connection can obliterate the last vestiges of desire-enhancing obstacles. They become so close that the chemistry between them is neutralized.
Cooled passions, whether a result of emotional disengagement and boredom, or closeness and comfort, sooner or later become a challenge for almost every couple. If their original bond was based on passion alone, they may miss the intensity so terribly that they terminate the relationship. Obviously, passionate couples are more likely to survive sexual cooling if more than sex holds them together.
Companionate couples are typically among the first to feel the loss of genital arousal, partly because they felt it least to begin with and partly because they establish comfort so quickly. It is difficult to predict how these couples will respond. Some who never shared high erotic intensity, and continue to enjoy the simple pleasures of sensuality and affection, aren’t particularly troubled. Others face a serious crisis, especially if one or both develops a sexual dysfunction or loses interest in sex altogether.
Although hardly anyone welcomes it, many couples respond to sexual cooling with humor and grace. In my experience, these are the ones who recognize the reduction of erotic zest as a natural occurrence that calls for creative adaptations and adjustments. The secrets of their success will be our focus in the next section.
In marital lore “the two become one.” In actuality becoming one can be very sexually stimulating, but being one isn’t—at least not for long. In every long-term relationship one or both partners eventually feels the tension between me and we. There may come a time when the balance shifts too far toward mutual interests to the exclusion of individual ones. At such times it can become crucial for the survival of the relationship, as well as the nurturance of sexual desire, for them to focus on individual needs.
Part of this process involves disentangling, a clarification of the psychic boundaries that often become fuzzy during couple-making. Entanglements occur when the feelings and needs of one become confused with those of the other, or when one chronically shapes his or her words and actions according to expectations about how the other will respond. These potentially suffocating entanglements are often mistaken for intimacy—a dangerous misconception. Togetherness and merging are very effective for cementing a bond, but true intimacy takes two separate individuals who are willing and able to balance the dual imperatives of individuality and interdependence.
Reasserting the right to be separate may trigger an upsurge in disagreements and fights. These will be particularly intense if one partner feels abandoned by the other, or fears that the partnership is losing its reason for being. If one partner’s desire for more separateness draws out a clinging dependency in the other, they may slip into rigid roles of “distancer” and “clinger,” unwittingly pushing each other into more extreme positions.
Despite difficulties, the reemergence of the self often works wonders for a couple’s sex life. When partners expand their range of interests and become more engaged with and stimulated by the outside world, their attraction for each other typically grows. Not only are they less able to take each other for granted, some also discover that insecurity about what the other might be doing actually heightens their interest. Ultimately, the reemergence of the self furthers the long-term goals of the couple, as long as the needs of the individual can find a way to coexist with an ongoing devotion to the partnership.
Financial crises, natural disasters, major illnesses, family conflicts, deaths of loved ones, affairs—these are just a few of the difficulties that send shock waves to the very core of even the best relationships. Sad are the pairings that collapse under the strain. Fortunately, many couples discover that when their love is tested and survives, it grows and deepens. Love that flourishes under duress establishes its right to exist. Seasoned lovers learn to tolerate the other’s quirks and foibles without seeing them as personal affronts. Happier couples go further still: they grow to accept the other’s eccentricities, even the annoying ones, as part of what makes the beloved unique.
Seasoned lovers, sometimes after years of struggle and turmoil, eventually achieve minimal conflict between their shared bond and their individuality. Their intimacy facilitates rather than interferes with each individual’s growth. Theirs is the “being-love” Abraham Maslow wrote about, as opposed to the far more common “deficiency-love.”3 Whereas deficiency-love is motivated by the need to fill in or compensate for one’s missing aspects, being-love is a union of self-acceptance and the capacity to love. Those who find their way to being-love are blessed by simultaneously feeling at home with oneself and the beloved.
And what becomes of passion as love matures? It changes, to be sure. Sometimes it fizzles—but by no means inevitably. Many couples never lose sight of a remnant of their original passion, although they experience it in less boisterous forms. They recognize that eros, if it is to survive the ravages of time, familiarity, and routine, requires a special kind of nurturing and a unique set of skills.
It’s easy to see how enduring coupledom can undermine both attractions and obstacles, which—according to the erotic equation—are two key ingredients for passion. Yet there’s plenty of room for optimism. All across the land, creative couples are maintaining fulfilling sex lives for ten, twenty, thirty years or more. In the early 1980s Blumstein and Schwartz studied thousands of couples in the United States, including married ones, straight cohabitors (not married), and lesbian and gay couples.4 Although the frequency of sex dropped over time for all types of couples, the vast majority continued to enjoy it regularly. Interestingly, married couples tended to remain the most active, with almost two-thirds reporting some sort of sex at least once a week, even after ten or more years together. Long-term gay and lesbian couples had sex together less often, but most still did so at least once a month.5
What fascinates me is how long-term couples nourish a vital spark of eroticism, despite all the factors that can conspire to reduce it. Sadly, we know far too little about this. For one thing, couples rarely discuss the details of their sex lives—often not even with each other. When they are willing to talk openly, as they sometimes do with sex researchers or couple’s therapists, their beliefs about how they sustain sexual interest may be quite different from how they actually do it.
Erotic couples regularly employ simple tricks to invigorate desire, techniques that could be provocative or hurtful to their partners if they were revealed. For instance, more than a few committed men and women engage in harmless flirtations with others. If their partners were to witness the flirting, some would become jealous. But many of these partners reap the benefits of having highly stimulated lovers, without having to confront all the reasons why.
Then, of course, there are the couples—nobody knows how many—who go through the motions out of a sense of duty, though they receive minimal pleasure from it. They view sex as necessary maintenance, like doing laundry or grocery shopping. Some of us might consider this an unacceptable solution to sexual boredom, but for many couples it works.
Most of what I know about long-term couples I’ve learned while doing therapy with individuals who discussed their relationships or in joint sessions with both partners. Of course, it’s useful to hear about the sexual concerns that motivate people to seek help, but it’s especially valuable to see how couples face their problems and take effective actions to make things better.
I’ve also been enlightened by working with couples who entered therapy because of nonsexual problems. Lots of couples maintain active and apparently satisfying sex lives in spite of chronic disagreements and fights. In a logical world, the quality of a couple’s erotic life would bear some relationship to the quality of their overall relationship. But I’ve worked with a number of couples who learned to cooperate more and fight less only to discover that their sex lives got worse. They apparently needed upheaval to fuel their passions.
Theories about how couples should behave sexually are of little value and often do great harm by setting up unrealistic expectations and distracting the couple from the delicate adjustments, compromises, and inspirations that have the best chance of working. What interests me is what long-term couples actually do, in concert or individually, to keep sex satisfying as they develop other positive aspects of the relationship—such as companionship, mutual support, and, in the most highly evolved relationships, a loving commitment to the other’s well-being and growth.
In this section I want to call your attention to a set of crucial skills that erotic couples appear to develop and apply with remarkable regularity. Long-term couples who discuss their sex lives with me always end up focusing on several—sometimes all—of these skills in one form or another. How consistently couples recognize them and put them to good use appears to have a major impact on the quality of their sexual interaction.
I’m quite certain that the majority of couples who conscientiously cultivate these skills will benefit. Nevertheless, when sexual interest is waning there are no sure-fire solutions. The great issues of erotic life are so much a part of the human adventure that they can’t be fixed like a leaky faucet; they can only be lived. In the living, possibilities emerge that defy logic, sometimes with happy results, sometimes not. Whether you are preparing for a future relationship or already involved in one, your journey will be infinitely more satisfying if you realize that the unfolding of eros is a work in progress that is never finished.
Sex therapists and educators are forever harping on the value of communication. To sustain satisfying sex lives, partners must exchange a tremendous amount of information, much of which changes with time and circumstance. Most couples rely primarily on nonverbal clues about how the other likes to be approached and touched. Yet even the best nonverbal communication is severely hampered because it depends on trial and error, with feedback limited to ambiguous groans and squirms.
Hardly a week goes by that I don’t encounter a couple who discovers in therapy that long-held beliefs about the other’s likes and dislikes are completely inaccurate. Such mistaken convictions typically are solidified when subtle signs are either misinterpreted or never tested again. During one session Marty described with matter-of-fact certainty how Debbie, his wife, didn’t like him to pump vigorously during intercourse. “Where did you get that idea?” Debbie asked with a look of utter disbelief. “A couple of times you’ve pushed me away and you sure looked unhappy,” he retorted. “I was,” said Debbie with exasperation, “but that’s because I wasn’t wet enough. When I’m hot and lubricating I love it when you get rough!” Marty and Debbie had a genuine desire to please each other. But you can see how only words could describe the specific conditions under which Debbie welcomed vigorous intercourse.
No matter how sophisticated we think we are, the fact is that talking about sex is difficult for everyone, even those of us who comfortably bring up sexual matters professionally. Not only are sexual desires, worries, or frustrations hard to articulate, but your partner holds special powers to hurt you by poking fun at you, ignoring you, or acting as if you’re weird. No wonder productive discussions about sex are so difficult to initiate.
Sexual communication has a dual function. Besides passing along crucial facts about what you like, don’t like, or might like to try, it’s also important to bolster—or at least not undermine—your partner’s sexual self-esteem. There’s no question that we’re at our best when our partners make us feel as if we have a special knack for turning them on. Conversely, we’re our unsexiest when we’re convinced we can’t do anything right.
Don’ts and dos of sexual communication
Most couples know when communication is necessary but aren’t sure how to proceed. To that end I offer some suggestions. Because some errors are virtually guaranteed to turn a discussion into a disaster, I’m going to start by violating a truism of marriage counselors that absolute words such as “always” or “never” be judiciously avoided. No matter how tempted you may be, never do these three things:
First, never belittle, berate, or hurl sexual insults at your partner, no matter how upset you are. Damaging your sex life is too high a price to pay for the momentary satisfaction of lashing out. It’s much better to talk sincerely about how you feel, even if you must wait until you calm down. Sexual insults are very difficult to take back. So even if you’re an ardent believer in speaking your mind, stifle yourself whenever you feel an urge to attack your lover’s sexuality.
Second, never compare your partner to past lovers. Not only is this downright rude, it makes it harder for your partner to let go of inhibitions and un-self-consciously reveal his or her sexuality to you—a prerequisite for maximum satisfaction.
Finally, never complain about your sex life to a mutual friend. Not only does this place your friend in an awkward position, but such complaints have a way of coming back to the partner, often exaggerated and distorted. It’s perfectly valid to talk with a friend about your problems, but pick someone who doesn’t have a close connection with your partner. In addition, request an explicit promise that your disclosures will remain confidential.
Those are the don’ts. Fortunately, there are also do’s that help make talking about sex easier and far more productive.
First, make a habit of regularly giving your partner positive verbal and nonverbal feedback about what feels especially good. This builds his or her confidence and increases the chances that you’ll receive more of what you like. What psychologists call positive reinforcement (praising what feels good) is much more effective at bringing about change than punishment (complaining about what’s wrong). Let’s say you wish your partner would stroke your inner thighs with gentle caresses rather than grabbing you like a hunk of meat. It’s perfectly valid to say, “I like it best when you touch my thighs gently like this,” and then either describe your desires or, better yet, take your partner’s hand and demonstrate. You’ll get even better results if you also whisper, “Ohhh, that feels wonderful” the next time your partner touches you even a little bit more like the way you enjoy it.
Second, discuss sexual problems and dissatisfactions when you are feeling close, not when either of you is defensive, tired, or preoccupied. Some of the best opportunities are during or after any shared pleasurable experience. The goal is to create a link in both of your minds between feeling good and talking about sex.
Third, if it’s too difficult to talk directly, write your lover a note. This technique allows you to refine your message and gives your partner plenty of time to digest it without reacting. Rather than assuming your motives are obvious, describe them explicitly—for example, “I value our sexual relationship so much that I’ve been thinking about how to make it even better.”
Fourth, learn to be a good listener, which requires that you receive information without becoming defensive—no small feat when you’re discussing material that touches on your most vulnerable areas. You probably know what it’s like to appear to be listening even when you’re not. Especially if you’re feeling criticized you may be so busy preparing your rebuttal that you miss the essence of what your partner is trying to say. Sometimes it’s better to separate speaking from listening, two distinct yet interacting skills. As an experiment, let one person speak for five minutes while the other just listens. Then let the speaker become the listener.
It helps to inquire specifically about what your partner is experiencing and how you might facilitate his or her pleasure. The goal of these delicate questions is to give your partner permission to express himself or herself, without sounding as if you’re demanding something. You might try touching your partner in a couple of different ways and places and asking which feels best. Vague questions such as, “What turns you on?” are likely to bring you evasive rather than enlightening responses.
Fifth, become fluent in the language of emotions. Emotional expressions are not only associated with vitality and passion, they also counteract boredom and increase intimacy. The trouble is, one partner usually wants them more than the other. Often, but not always, men are uncomfortable with emotions—except possibly anger—because a lifetime of masculine socialization has taught them to perceive emotions as signs of weakness. But remember that personality differences also play a part. After all, even in same-sex relationships one partner is typically more feeling-oriented than the other.
The irony is that the person who wants more openness with feelings tends to increase his or her own emotionality. Unfortunately, this only widens the gap between the partners when the feeling-oriented one inadvertently confirms the reluctant one’s fears that feelings will get out of control. As a result, he or she becomes even less emotional.
Sixth, know when to keep quiet. Too much discussion is the enemy of communication, though couples often disagree about how much communication is too much. Ironically, when one partner wants to talk more and the other less, they often end up driving each other to even more extreme positions. “Why do you want to talk constantly about our relationship?” one partner demands. “Because you never do!” retorts the other.
Couples with a significant disparity in their desire or tolerance for intimate talk can sometimes break this impasse by deliberately switching roles. The partner who wants more discussion agrees, as an experiment, only to bring up difficult topics at predetermined times, while the one who usually clams up agrees to try initiating. But note: this approach only works if both partners freely accept it. Talkers who unilaterally test their partners by shutting up to see if and when they will say something are playing a dangerous game with predictably negative results.
Finally, one of the most effective ways for couples to expand their knowledge about what turns them on is to remind each other of past encounters together that were particularly pleasing. There’s only one pitfall to avoid. If your reminiscences come primarily from an earlier, more passionate phase in your relationship, you might set yourselves up for unfavorable comparisons with your current sex life. Make a point of emphasizing specific recent encounters. With rare exceptions, even couples who think their sex lives are a complete mess can point to at least some pleasurable moments, thereby highlighting the fact that they have a positive foundation on which to build.
My observations have consistently revealed an apparent contradiction: to preserve opportunities for lusty, passionate sex, most successful long-term couples develop the ability to enjoy “warm sex.” Rather than emphasizing focused intensity, warm sex revolves around calmer experiences of sensuality, affection, pleasure, and playful fun. Although warm sex usually includes genital stimulation, its goals are neither high arousal nor orgasm.
Especially during periods when desire is relatively low, warm sex allows couples to maintain a physical bond and helps them to continue perceiving each other in a sexual light. In my work, I have regularly been reminded of how crucial this is. In fact, I haven’t seen a couple—nor have any of the colleagues I’ve informally surveyed—who were able to rebuild a sexual connection after they had stopped thinking of each other in an erotic way for five or more years.
Some people have great difficulty learning to enjoy warm sex, while others gravitate to it naturally. As a sex therapist I often encounter men and women who think of warm sex as boring sex—or no sex at all—and therefore avoid it or become frustrated when it doesn’t always lead to intercourse. Men are often troubled by warm sex because it doesn’t necessarily generate sufficient erotic energy to produce or sustain an erection. Unfortunately, heterosexual and gay male couples typically think the firmness of the penis is the indicator of how well things are going, an idea inimical to enduring sexual satisfaction.
In addition to its other rewards, warm sex maintains an erotic playground. The passion of new love is typically an automatic catalyst for sex. As the urgency calms, however, seasoned lovers make time for sex, an obvious fact proclaimed so often by marriage counselors that it now borders on cliché. But if you want to sustain a happy sex life over time, this is one cliché you can’t afford to ignore. When erotic couples evolve out of the heat of limerence, it’s crucial that they find ways of keeping sex a priority—not just in concept but in fact.
Some parents feel guilty if they take time away from the kids to focus on their relationship. Couples need to remind themselves that their connection is the core of the family and cultivating it is, in the long run, one of the best things they can do for their children. By the time kids are able to entertain themselves with a minimum of supervision they should also be able to grasp the concept of Mom and Dad having private times when they are not to be interrupted (except, of course, for emergencies). A lock on the bedroom door is essential. A playful sign such as, “Do not disturb. Mommy and Daddy snuggling” is not only a practical help but also communicates positive messages about sensuality and affection—the best sex education there is.
One of the key challenges of long-term loving is how to keep attraction alive. Attraction tends to be stimulated most strongly by the new, the unfamiliar, or the unattainable—all features that decrease with day-to-day living. How then do erotic couples maintain their mutual appeal? Years of observing and questioning have led me to conclude that, while no simple answers exist, there are two basic strategies. The first is to stay in touch with the original attractions that brought you together in the first place. The second involves recognizing new sources of attraction as the relationship evolves. Most erotic couples rely on a combination of both.
Regardless of the specific problems that bring them to therapy I always ask couples what first drew them to each other. Not only does the ensuing discussion provide me with valuable background information, it also gives them an opportunity to focus on crucial memories that may have been overshadowed by more recent conflicts and concerns.
Erotic couples make a point of remembering their original attractions because they realize that even small remnants of these attractions can be powerful aphrodisiacs. For instance, passionate lovers focus on specific physical features that continue to be arousing, even when both of their bodies may have seen better days. This is a positive manifestation of the lusty objectification many people find objectionable.
Erotic couples are also aware that attraction is inspired by much more than the physical, so they also pay careful attention to the behaviors and attitudes that turn them on. At least as important as recognition of attractive features is the ability to bolster your partner’s sense of attractiveness by making affirmative statements about him or her and to accept and value your partner’s perceptions of you.
Thelma and Max: That look
I once had an opportunity to discuss the interplay of mutual attraction with a delightful couple who had been married for almost forty years. Thelma, a feisty woman in her mid-sixties, and her husband, Max, who had just recently turned seventy, consulted me for advice on how to handle a bitter custody dispute their son was involved in following his divorce. The entire family was in an uproar. However, Thelma and Max’s relationship was doing just fine. When I asked about their secrets of long-term love they were embarrassed at first but soon began talking about their enduring attraction.
“Sometimes I think I’m all washed up,” Max explained as he reached for Thelma’s hand. “But this little lady just gives me that look and I feel twenty years younger.”
“It’s not me,” Thelma protested. “I don’t do anything. I can’t help it, he still looks just like the man who swept me off my feet—so suave and handsome, and just as confident as can be.”
As I listened to Thelma and Max I couldn’t help noticing that their abiding attraction was totally interactive. With her eyes Thelma communicated her admiration to Max, who responded by feeling more attractive. As a result, he exhibited more of the qualities that attracted Thelma, who in turn felt validated by having the attention of such a desirable man.
Thelma and Max also reminded me that the ability to sustain attraction is, to a significant degree, a conscious decision, an act of will. The idea that we can choose to feel attracted goes against the notion that attraction is something that happens to us. Fresh attractions often exhibit this effortless, automatic quality, as though you’re being made to take notice. Ongoing attractions operate differently. Sure you want to be moved by your partner’s desirability. But it is your responsibility to be actively receptive, to open your eyes enthusiastically to the beauty of your lover. Attraction’s biggest enemy is the tendency to stop paying attention. There is no doubt that invisible partners are never attractive.
One of the most difficult problems is also one of the most common: what to do when one or both partners have “let themselves go.” Few are comfortable saying—and even fewer hearing—such comments as, “You’re getting fat and unattractive.” Yet people often tell me in private how distressed they are when their partners act as if they’re entitled to attraction no matter how little they do to maintain themselves. As difficult as it is to discuss such matters, I believe it is essential. To remain silent as you watch your lover give up on his or her attractiveness is to tacitly agree that how he or she looks no longer matters.
It’s not always possible to retain remnants of an original attraction. The characteristics that first bring partners together can change radically or disappear completely over time. Some couples respond by turning their attention elsewhere. Erotic couples, however, make a conscious effort to develop new sources of attraction as old ones fall away; they learn to see their lovers through new eyes.
Richard and Mark: Changing faces of attraction
Having lived together for over eleven years, Richard and Mark had been through their share of trouble, including one extended separation, yet their commitment remained solid. Mark consulted me because he was concerned that his attraction for Richard was fading. Like most male couples, after their first few years together they had agreed to allow casual sex outside the relationship. There had been mutual insecurities during the transition to nonmonogamy and two crises when each had a brief affair, but their arrangement had mostly worked well. In addition to their outside activities, they also had continued an active sex life together until the last year.
“I don’t get it,” said Mark, “Richard is still very handsome. He has a beautiful body. We have lots of fun together. But I feel myself turning off and it scares me.”
As usual, I asked what had originally attracted Mark to Richard. He immediately mentioned Richard’s youthful good looks, playful sense of fun, and flair for adventure—all of which contrasted with Mark’s more serious, conservative nature. “Even as a child,” Mark explained, “I was a little adult, dutifully doing chores, schoolwork, and taking care of my sister. Richard knows how to have fun and even gets away with being irresponsible—or at least he used to.”
Over the years Richard had changed dramatically. He achieved an advanced degree, established a new career, earned more money, became unmistakably more independent and powerful. Mark felt proud of Richard’s accomplishments, but the contrast that had excited him for so long was narrowing to practically nothing. Now they were both dominated by their responsibilities. As a result, Mark had been noticing younger, less mature men—more like Richard used to be.
Mark hadn’t given these changes much conscious thought until his discussion with me. After that he talked with Richard, who soon joined us in the sessions. He too had lost some of his original attraction but in a different way. Whereas Mark still was drawn to the youthful ways that balanced his seriousness, Richard was no longer interested in big brother types. He wanted Mark to be attracted to him as a fellow professional and peer. “I want to be two men together,” he proclaimed, “not a man and a boy.”
When couples speak of “growing apart,” they are often referring, without realizing it, to changes in one or both partners that have undermined their original attractions. Like Mark, many people find it difficult to adjust their attractions to match new realities. Mark and Richard found their open but gentle discussions of these matters helpful. As they became increasingly honest with each other, they felt closer and Mark’s sexual interest increased somewhat.
Before leaving therapy Mark tried a bold experiment. He decided to try being more playful and adventuresome himself, instead of looking for these qualities in younger men. Though it wasn’t easy, he found that even small displays of youthfulness on his part helped him appreciate Richard’s new level of maturity and confidence. It also made him realize that his lifelong lack of opportunities to feel young (even as a child) would probably always pull him toward men whose boyishness could help balance his one-sidedness.
Just because strong patterns of attraction tend to be stable doesn’t mean they must remain static and inflexible. Erotic couples accept both the stability of old attractions and the risks of new ones. What matters most is that, like Richard and Mark, even as they flounder they remain committed to their partnerships.
Most people who are strongly attached to their partners feel insecure simply imagining the beloved having sex with another. Ironically, the declaration or assumption of monogamy often gives forbidden objects a special allure. Outside erotic interests take three different forms: flirtations, dalliances, and affairs.
Flirtations are the mildest sexual interactions outside the primary relationship. They are close to universal and usually harmless unless one partner becomes upset by witnessing flirtatious activity on the part of the other or by hearing about it secondhand. Observed flirtations are especially unsettling for the possessive and insecure because they are concrete reminders that the flirter finds others sexually appealing and therefore might consider going further.
But flirtations can have positive effects too. It can be gratifying and empowering for a partner caught flirting—at a party, for example—to see his or her partner become jealous. Noticing one’s partner flirting can also stimulate passion, partly because a mate’s desirability is enhanced by outside confirmation, and also because mild undercurrents of uneasiness and irritation can act as aphrodisiacs.
Dalliances—casual, typically once-only encounters—are the most common explicit breaches of monogamy. Luckily, the vast majority never come to light. I believe that occasional dalliances are an aspect of erotic life better left unrevealed. As long as strict safe sex guidelines are followed, dalliances typically pose no more threat to a relationship than masturbation, fantasizing about other people, or enjoying erotic videos or stories. But should the partner learn of a dalliance, he or she probably won’t take it lightly. On the contrary, even a meaningless tryst with a stranger thousands of miles from home has been known to create a crisis of trust. Dalliances are clearly not risk-free, nor is it my intention to advocate them.
Affairs are far more serious breaches of monogamy because they involve repeated forbidden meetings and often include more than just sex. Most affairs run their course quickly but others persist for years, sometimes developing into stable secondary relationships. Whereas flirtations and dalliances do not necessarily result from problems in a relationship, ongoing affairs are much more likely to be indicative of trouble.
Affairs occur under so many circumstances and for so many reasons that it’s difficult to generalize about them. Studies disagree substantially about the prevalence of affairs, with reported frequencies ranging from 20 to 50 percent of married couples to well over three-quarters of long-term gay male couples. Blumstein and Schwartz mention a number of impressions6 that closely match my observations:
Most affairs, even ongoing ones, are never discovered or verified. Unless partners have mutually agreed to allow outside sex under clearly defined conditions, when affairs do come to light they invariably provoke a crisis, sometimes with such a profound sense of betrayal that the partnership is unable to survive it. This isn’t surprising given the fact that affairs are most likely to occur when problems already exist in a relationship.
Crises, including those produced by the discovery of an affair, are never pleasant, but neither are they always bad. Some couples use the ordeal of recovering from an affair to reaffirm their commitment. They express feelings and needs they have kept to themselves for years. They also tackle tough questions about where they want the relationship to go. Some begin dating each other again, assuming nothing, as if starting from scratch.
Many believe that any dalliance or affair makes a mockery of monogamy. This notion is particularly prevalent in traditional heterosexual marriages in which monogamy is a given and not open to discussion. More than a few spouses passively agree to monogamy because they have no real choice. Many others who voluntarily place a high value on sexual fidelity don’t always behave in accordance with their ideals. In my view, imperfect behavior shouldn’t necessarily invalidate good intentions. When someone claims to be “mostly monogamous,” he or she may be expressing a more genuine commitment to monogamy than someone who passively capitulates to its demands.
Beyond monogamy
Millions of couples retain an allegiance to the ideal of monogamy even though they occasionally violate it. A smaller number openly reject the constraints of monogamy, forging agreements that allow for some degree of sexual or even emotional involvement outside the primary bond. In the freewheeling 1970s open marriage was widely discussed. Ultimately, most couples—even those who saw value in the concept—were unable to handle the inevitable jealousies and insecurities.
In the 1980s, as concerns about AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases increased, nonmonogamy slipped further into disfavor. Nonetheless, some couples still find that nonmonogamy makes sense for a variety of reasons, including:
Hardly any couples who venture beyond monogamy adopt an anything-goes attitude. Some work out tacit understandings without much talk. For example, discreet dalliances are acceptable when either partner is out of town. I’ve seen situations in which one or both partners pursued not altogether secret affairs for extended periods virtually without discussion, and with few obvious problems.
Other couples engage in detailed, often stormy negotiations about outside sex. Sometimes a “night off” is established when both can do whatever they please as long as they’re home by a specified time. Some prefer not to hear details of outside sex while others want to know everything so they don’t have to wonder. Still others only want to be informed of an emotional involvement. Virtually all nonmonogamous couples—like monogamous ones—need comfort rather than ridicule when jealousies and insecurities arise, as well as reassurance that their relationship is still primary.
As we have seen, most but by no means all gay male couples allow at least some outside sex, especially as an antidote for sexual boredom after years of monogamy. Although lots of gay men have just as much trouble making this transition as their lesbian and straight counterparts, two factors make it a little easier. In the gay male subculture there is social support for open relationships and role models for making them work.
Another crucial factor among gay men is what Blumstein and Schwartz call the “trick mentality,” in which sex as recreation is separated from emotional involvement.7 Gay male couples who want nothing more than casual outside sex usually find the adjustment relatively painless, particularly if they are sensitive to each other’s feelings and continue to enjoy sex, at least occasionally, together. But many male couples face the same discrepancy as heterosexual couples: one partner seeks casual outside sex while the other can’t imagine avoiding deeper involvement. For them nonmonogamy is just as stormy—and often unworkable—as it is for most opposite-sex or lesbian couples.
Despite a widespread belief that good sex with a partner renders private sexual acts superfluous, many partnered men and women continue enjoying masturbation and fantasy. Those who focus their sexual desires exclusively on their partners are most likely to be troubled by the realization that certain aspects of their partner’s sex life have little or nothing to do with them. A few go so far as to react with the kind of bitter jealousy most of us reserve for sexual indiscretions with other people.
Not only is long-term loving not diminished by solo sex, but some people discover that an active private sex life is an essential ingredient for erotic vitality. On the most practical level solo sex keeps people in touch with their bodies. Virtually all sex therapists agree that conscious self-stimulation is one of the most effective ways for a woman to learn how to have orgasms reliably. Similarly, men with a tendency to ejaculate rapidly can use deep breathing and muscle relaxation during masturbation to increase awareness and control of their responses, lessons readily transferable to encounters with a partner.
On a less clinical level, the erotic fantasies that typically accompany masturbation offer direct access to one’s CET, the inner wellspring of passion. Even when heightened desire is focused on a fantasy partner, in many instances the actual relationship benefits.
Solo sex has yet another major advantage that is too often ignored. It is without question the most readily available way for lovers to cope with small to moderate discrepancies in desired sexual frequency. I’ve seen dozens of marriages that have literally been saved by masturbation. Rather than pestering a reluctant partner, the one who wants more sex satisfies some of his or her needs alone. Arguments are reduced, which often increases the quality of the sex they do have together. This approach doesn’t work so well when disparities in sexual desire are extreme because then the person with higher desires has to depend primarily on masturbation to satisfy his or her needs. Neither is this method effective for someone who derives little or no enjoyment from masturbation.
Secrecy versus privacy
To understand the role of masturbation and fantasy in committed relationships it is crucial to make a clear distinction between secrecy, hiding significant information, and privacy, the right to maintain a nonrelational sphere of existence. Secrecy hurts intimate relationships; privacy enhances them. Unfortunately, many people don’t recognize the difference. They fear secrets, and therefore they resent privacy. Ironically, when they refuse to recognize legitimate privacy rights, instead of making themselves more secure, they create the very secrecy they fear. Erotic couples honor each other’s sexual privacy. In most cases this comes down to not discussing masturbatory activities so that the private sexual realm never becomes an issue.
Sometimes, however, one partner unwittingly stumbles upon information that is genuinely perplexing or upsetting. I’ve worked with couples of all sexual orientations in which one person discovered a stash of erotic magazines or videos and became distraught by the idea of his or her partner fantasizing about someone else. Some people are mistakenly convinced that masturbation itself is a sign of trouble in their relationships.
Believe it or not, I’ve also known more than a few couples who argued about vibrators, particularly their amazing ability to produce multiple orgasms on demand. Many women find the intense vibrations, enhanced by fantasy, to be quite compelling. But some of the partners of these women, male or female, see the machine as threatening because its feats of extended stimulation cannot be duplicated by mere mortals.
Carl and Sandra: The plug-in rival
Carl didn’t pay much attention when Sandra brought home a vibrator until it became a permanent fixture on her nightstand. A showdown came one morning when Sandra asked Carl if she could use the vibrator on her clitoris while he was inside her. He pulled out immediately and turned away. Later he accused her of preferring sex with “that damn machine.” Sandra tried to explain that she needed a little extra stimulation to climax during intercourse and that the vibrator was helping her to become more easily orgasmic. “I’d still be making love with you,” she assured him.
Sandra’s difficulty with orgasms during intercourse, along with Carl’s inability to have intercourse for more than about ten minutes without ejaculating, had brought them to therapy. Logically, you might expect Carl to support any method that could help Sandra reach orgasm. But like many men Carl felt less than adequate because he couldn’t make her come before he did. He made his problem much worse by labeling himself a “premature ejaculator.”8
The pressure on Sandra was unbearable because she hardly ever climaxed during intercourse, no matter how long it lasted. It was a major breakthrough when Carl agreed that Sandra could rub her clitoris as they made love. Precisely because this seemed to be working so well, Sandra thought Carl might accept the vibrator. But because he was so jealous, Sandra put away the vibrator although she continued to enjoy it privately. The subject never came up again until, having made great strides in their communication and comfort with each other, they were almost ready to stop therapy.
Much to Sandra’s surprise, one Friday night Carl whispered just before they drifted off to sleep, “Why don’t you get out the vibrator. Maybe we can use it in the morning.” They both woke up in a sexy mood. Carl requested instructions on vibrator technique, then devised a position in which he could enter her and simultaneously hold the vibrator to her clitoris. She, of course, climaxed explosively, for which she almost felt the need to apologize. But apparently Carl had resolved his rivalry with the vibrator. From that point on a muffled buzzing sound could often be heard in their bedroom.
Most people require a minimum of paraphernalia during solo sex—perhaps a little lubricant, a favorite piece of erotica, and a towel or tissues for cleanup. But some masturbatory props can, if discovered, be even more upsetting than Sandra’s vibrator was to Carl.
Melody and Herb: Herb’s secret
Less than five minutes after she and her husband, Herb, entered my office, Melody was telling her story between sobs. She had arrived home early from an evening meeting and, as always, was looking forward to seeing Herb. She decided to surprise him, so she tiptoed toward the bedroom. There she encountered Herb wearing a lacy nightie he had recently bought for her, feverishly masturbating. What followed might have been comical except that Herb’s secret—that wearing feminine lingerie was a turn-on—threw their tranquil relationship into a crisis.
Herb explained that he began eroticizing women’s undergarments as a teenager. He masturbated in the bathroom where his mother and older sister hung their frilly things to dry. At first just the sight of these uniquely female items excited him, but soon the satiny textures captivated him as well. It was exciting to rub against them or put them on. Although you might assume that there was an incestuous element involved, to Herb these were not Mom’s or Sis’s items. They were symbols of his love of femininity. It wasn’t that he felt feminine, but rather he had a desire to be close to the feminine, to revel in its mysteries.
Although traditionally feminine in appearance. Melody had little use for frilly garments and often wondered why Herb insisted on giving them to her. Not only did she feel betrayed, she also feared that this secret might be the “tip of the iceberg.” Was he having kinky affairs? Was he gay? Was he a peeping Tom? The man she thought she had known so intimately suddenly seemed a stranger. Luckily, Herb was eager to explain how he developed his unusual interest, how he had often wanted to tell her about it, and how he hoped she might one day come to bed wearing the sexy items he had given her. Nothing was different, he reassured her, except that now she knew that he “masturbated with props.”
Herb expressed the hope that they could use this crisis to talk more openly about sex and become more experimental, maybe even acting out some of their fantasies. Melody, on the other hand, insisted that she didn’t fantasize, didn’t want to be adventuresome in bed, definitely didn’t want to be given any more lingerie, and hoped that Herb could somehow get over his fetish. But more than anything she made it abundantly clear that never again did she want to be confronted with this private aspect of Herb’s sexuality. If he couldn’t “get over it,” he at least had to keep it to himself. Reluctantly, Herb agreed. With the wall of privacy reestablished they resumed their warm and loving relationship and left therapy.
Sharing the private world
Some couples, unlike Melody and Herb, discover that they thoroughly enjoy sharing each other’s private sex lives, either directly or indirectly. For these adventurous pairs, masturbating together is a provocative way for each to demonstrate how he or she likes to be touched. What better way to learn precisely what works for your partner? Once you are past the initial awkwardness of participating in such a private act, the instruction process can be quite titillating.
Sharing erotic fantasies is more complicated. The close link between masturbation and fantasy is one of the key reasons that solo sex is usually kept private. Many people find it difficult to masturbate without fantasizing, and difficult to fantasize freely in the presence of their partners. And even though it is known that men and women frequently fantasize about other people while making love with their partners, how many of us really want to hear about it? Even more challenging is the fact that fantasies are powerfully shaped by the fantasizer’s CET. And although every sexual relationship is influenced by the interplay of both partners’ CETs, openly discussing them is an entirely different matter.
One of the most unsettling of love’s rude awakenings is the realization that your partner’s deepest erotic yearnings are unexpectedly at odds with yours. I’m not referring to the everyday incompatibilities of timing, frequency, rhythm, and styles of touch that every couple encounters as their sex lives mature. There are much more difficult situations in which a person’s CET is unable to find an avenue of expression within the relationship. These serious erotic incompatibilities frequently don’t come to light until the relationship is well established.
Theresa and Rita: The politics of fantasy
Despite the protests of her lover, Rita, Theresa requested that she meet with me alone. They were already in couple’s therapy with a woman therapist, working out disagreements about parenting Rita’s daughter from a previous marriage. They also had a variety of other concerns, among them an unwelcome phenomenon known as “lesbian bed death.”9 What little sex they still had was decreasing rapidly after less then two years together. Heated discussions seemed to be getting them nowhere, although they obviously loved each other and had a marvelous closeness and a community of friends.
Theresa had recently confided in Rita that fantasies of dominance and submission had always turned her on and how disappointed she was that there appeared to be no room for playing with power in their sexual relationship. She had fully expected Rita to be upset because Rita felt so strongly about equality in all things, including sex. Theresa explained, “I tried to be as diplomatic as possible when I told her I long for the sexy energy when I submit to her or feel her surrender to me. But I wouldn’t dare tell her that I dream of commanding her to get on her knees and lick my pussy, or how much I would love it if she pinned me against the bed with the full weight of her body and called me a slut.”
“Why not?” I asked as if I weren’t aware of the controversy dividing lesbians about the relationship between sex and power. “Because dominance and submission is based on heterosexist models that demean women and cheapen sex,” she responded with the most amazing mixture of sarcasm and heartfelt conviction.
She was unwilling to discuss this with a woman therapist, especially a lesbian, for fear that she would be scolded. Like her community, she was conflicted and doubted she could risk telling any lesbian about what really turned her on. And because this was the early 1980s, few articulate lesbian voices had yet emerged to call for sexuality to be released from the choking demands of political correctness. Fortunately, the situation has since changed.
Although she was outspoken, tough, and assertive, Theresa moved and spoke with feminine grace. One of her complaints about the lesbian community was its insistence that everyone be androgynous—nobody too “butch” or too “femme.” Theresa liked being an outspoken femme and was naturally drawn to butch women like Rita. She found the contrast a turn-on despite worries she was “mimicking heterosexual roles.”10
Lesbians continue to debate the acceptable parameters for sexual fantasy and play, especially within the framework of loving relationships. This question arises for men and women of all sexual orientations: Because so many people are harmed by large and small abuses of power, and because sexualized abuses of power are especially demeaning, is there any room in relationships of mutual respect and caring for sexual power play? The question is particularly difficult for anyone whose fantasies include images of humiliation, or who has been sexually abused.
Seth and Lenore: Was it rape?
About the same time Theresa and Rita were grappling with their problems I began working with Seth and Lenore, who were facing a major crisis after nine years of marriage. One day Seth had become amorous with Lenore in the kitchen and before long he entered her. They were standing up with Lenore pressed against the kitchen counter. As their excitement escalated, Seth grew increasingly aggressive. Lenore was enjoying herself until she noticed Seth’s glazed eyes and the contorted expression she later called the “look of a rapist.” She was especially frightened because she had recently been thinking about an incident of date rape from her high school days—long before anybody openly recognized the phenomenon.
After Seth ejaculated and as his attention returned to Lenore, he saw a look of horror and rage in her eyes. Then she pushed him away and ran off sobbing. Seth confirmed for me in one of our individual meetings that at the height of his excitement Lenore had indeed temporarily become purely a sexual object, and he had been thrilled by the feeling of “fucking her mercilessly.” His internal imagery, however, was not of rape but of unbridled lust and a receptive woman overwhelmed by the power of his sexual energy.
Lenore referred to the event as “the rape.” Although Seth was shocked by this characterization, he felt too guilty to protest. For Lenore, the fact that at the height of his excitement Seth often became less tender and more animalistic felt perilously similar to her memories of the date rape.
Seth had enjoyed pornography since adolescence, so he began reading about it, especially the notion that all porn degrades women by objectifying them. He decided that never again would he abandon himself to lust while making love with Lenore. The topic receded into the background as they emphasized warm, intimate sex, which they both enjoyed. They also worked on deepening the trust between them. They left therapy feeling good about their relationship. But during one of our individual wrap-up sessions Seth told me he missed the heights of excitement he used to reach before he decided to restrain himself. Although he firmly believed this was a small price to pay for a better relationship with Lenore, he nonetheless mourned the loss.
Theresa and Rita moved in the opposite direction. Rita decided she was willing to experiment with power fantasies once she realized how important it was to Theresa. Luckily, there were no experiences of sexual abuse in Rita’s background, so only her political objections made her reticent. Rita, a very self-aware person, recognized that she too could genuinely enjoy mild power play with Theresa.
Rita even hoped that Theresa might be willing to participate in one of Rita’s favorite fantasies, although she held serious doubts about the wisdom of acting out in erotic role playing a scenario that would horrify her in real life. She finally decided to tell Theresa about the fantasy that always had the power to excite her. In it she’s a svelte, sought-after stripper working in a tawdry nightclub overcrowded with gawking men. Out of the throng a beautiful woman appears, takes her hand, and leads her to a secret back room. There she lies on white satin sheets, aching for this strange women to worship her body, to kiss her everywhere with unbearable sensuality.
Luckily, Rita and Theresa took readily to the imaginative joys of erotic role playing and shared a similar style: rather than acting out every detail explicitly, they preferred to focus on simple symbolic acts as fantasy stimuli. It was obvious to both that their newfound freedom dramatically improved their sex life.
Two similar dilemmas; two radically different outcomes. In Seth’s relationship his CET was excluded, resulting in a welcome improvement in tenderness and intimacy. The lesbian couple, in contrast, overcame pervasive political pressures and exploited “incorrect” imagery for fun. Somewhere in between are countless other couples who never overtly discuss their CETs yet become reasonably adept at sensing the private turn-ons of their partners and providing complementary movements, postures, and words to stimulate the lover, without openly acknowledging what they’re doing.
All erotic couples share a special skill: they are able to adapt gracefully to new challenges. The more I study long-term couples, the more impressed I am by their versatility and creativity. Often these couples surprise themselves with the solutions they discover through trial and error.
When newer couples hear about the compromises and adaptations made by more established ones, they may feel discouraged. They don’t yet understand that while countless good relationships exist, ideal ones are figments of the imagination. An example might be a couple who, after years of struggling with incompatible living habits, decide to live separately while actively maintaining their connection. Once they are freed of constant petty conflicts their intimacy improves.
One of the most widespread and destructive myths is that healthy couples have a consistent sex life. Human sexuality didn’t evolve to be expressed with clockwork regularity, a fact that becomes increasingly obvious with the passage of time. Rare are couples who don’t experience dry spells, especially in today’s two-career, high-stress households. The way a couple responds to these inevitable fluctuations has a greater effect on the long-term viability of their relationship than the dry spells themselves.
Some couples reach a point when they mostly or totally stop having sex. Although nonsexual couples are less likely to feel satisfied with their relationship than couples who continue to have sex, some are relatively content. The degree of importance given to sex varies tremendously, particularly among older couples. Many continue to enjoy active sex lives, some more than ever because they have extra time together and no worries about pregnancy. Others evolve into nonsexual companions.
You might find it distressing that there are so many nonidyllic relationship options. But there’s another way of looking at it. The many faces of couplehood can be inspiring, for they demonstrate the adaptability and endurance of long-term connections, even in an age when commitments so often seem transitory. As partners free themselves from the tyranny of one predetermined style, love finds more ways to flourish.
If both intimacy and passion are to thrive beyond the limerent period, there must be a recognition that the two spring from separate and distinct motives. Intimacy is engendered by the desire to know every detail of the other’s dreams and fears. Passion, however, is felt when one gazes at the beloved from a distance and appreciates him or her as an individual who can never be fully known.