Adultery(34)

The “thing” must be what he considers my depression. Who exactly have you been talking to? Some friend who will spill the beans the first time he has a little too much to drink?

“No, not at all. A marriage counselor.”

How awful! Marriage counseling was the last thing I heard that terrible afternoon at the golf club. Have the two of them been talking behind my back?

“Maybe I caused your problem. I don’t give you the attention you deserve. I’m always talking about work, or things we need to do. We’ve lost the romance needed to maintain a happy family. Caring about the children isn’t enough. We need more than that while we’re still young. Who knows, maybe we can revisit Interlaken, the first trip we took together after we met? We can climb part of the Jungfrau and enjoy the scenery from above.”

A marriage counselor! That’s all I need.

The conversation with my husband reminds me of an old saying: there is none so blind as the one who does not want to see.

How could he think he’d forsaken me? Where did he get such a crazy idea? It’s not as if I’m welcoming him to bed with open arms and legs.

It has been a while since we had an intense sexual relationship. In a healthy relationship, this is even more important for a couple’s stability than making plans for the future or talking about the children. Interlaken takes me back to a time when we strolled around the city in the late afternoon—because the rest of the time we were locked up in the hotel, making love and drinking cheap wine.

When we love someone, we’re not satisfied with knowing only the person’s soul—we also want to understand the person’s body. Is it necessary? I don’t know, but instinct encourages us. There is no set time for it to take place, no rules to follow. Nothing beats that moment of revelation when shyness loses ground to boldness, and quiet moans turn into squeals and swearing. Yes, swearing—I have an overwhelming need to hear forbidden and “dirty” things when I’ve got a man inside me.

In these moments, the same old questions arise: “Am I squeezing too hard?” “Should I go faster or slower?” These questions might seem out of place or bothersome, but they are part of this act of initiation, understanding, and mutual respect. It is very important to talk while building a perfect intimacy. The opposite would mean silent and dishonest frustration.

Then comes marriage. We try to maintain the same behaviors, and sometimes we succeed—in my case, it lasted until I got pregnant the first time, which happened quickly. Until suddenly we realize that things have changed.

Sex, from now on, is only at night and preferably just before bedtime. As if it were an obligation, both parties accept without questioning whether the other is in the mood. If sex is skipped, suspicions arise, so it’s best to stick to the ritual.

If it wasn’t good, don’t say anything, because tomorrow may be better. After all, we’re married. We have our whole lives ahead of us.

There is nothing else to discover, and we try to get as much pleasure as possible from the same things. This is like eating chocolate every day, without changing brands or trying new flavors: it’s not a sacrifice, but isn’t there anything else?

Of course there is: little toys you can buy at sex shops, swinger clubs, inviting a third person to join, or taking adventurous chances at parties hosted by unconventional friends.

To me, this is all very risky. We don’t know what the consequences will be—it’s better to leave things alone.

And so the days go by. We discover by talking with friends that the so-called simultaneous orgasm—where a couple becomes aroused at the same time, caressing the same parts and moaning in unison—is a myth. How can I have pleasure if I have to be paying attention to what I’m doing? Touch my body, drive me wild, and then I’ll do the same to you—that would be more natural.

But most of the time that’s not how it is. The communion has to be “perfect,” or, in other words, nonexistent.

And careful with the moaning, so as not to wake the children.

Ah, I’m glad that’s over, I was so tired and don’t know how I managed. You’re the best! Good night.

Until the day when one of the two realizes they need a break from the routine. But instead of going to swinger clubs, or sex shops full of gadgets we can’t even figure out how to work properly, or to the home of wild friends who keep discovering new things, we decide to … spend some time without the children.

Plan a romantic getaway. With no surprises. Where everything will be absolutely, utterly planned and organized.