Esther Perel's Blog, page 5

“Are you cheating on me?” Beyoncé asks in her visual album Lemonade , which premiered last weekend on HBO. She throws open a door, and water gushes forth—an apt metaphor for the flood of emotions that her question, and its implied answer, unleashes.

As a couples therapist, I’ve sat with hundreds of women, and men, in the turbulent aftermath of infidelity. For the past decade, I’ve been traveling the globe listening to tales of betrayal from every side. What struck me about Beyoncé’s album was both the universality of its themes and the unusual way in which it presented them. Whether autobiography or simply art, her multimedia treatise on unfaithful love represents a refreshing break with this country’s accepted narratives on the topic.

In the American backyard, adultery is sold with a mixture of condemnation and titillation. Magazine covers peddle smut while preaching sanctimony. While our society has become sexually open to the point of overflowing, when it comes to infidelity even the most liberal minds can remain intransigent. We may not be able to stop the fact that it happens, but we can all agree that it shouldn’t.

Another thing most Americans seem to agree on is that infidelity is among the worst things that can happen to a couple. The dialogue here is framed in terms borrowed from trauma, crime and religion: victims and perpetrators; injured parties and infidels; confession, repentance and redemption. As a European, I can testify that in other cultures, the betrayal is no less painful, but the response is more philosophical and pragmatic. Americans do not cheat any less than the supposedly lascivious French; they just feel more guilty about it, because the experience here is framed in moral terms.

As Brazilian couples therapist Michele Scheinkman has pointed out, the notion of trauma provides a legitimizing framework for the pain of betrayal, but it limits the avenues for recovery. This clinical approach denudes the pain of its romantic essence and its erotic energy—the very qualities that must be reignited if a relationship is to not only survive but thrive. Jealousy, rage, vengeance and lust are as central to the story as loss, pain and shattered trust—something European and Latin cultures will more readily admit than Americans. Infidelity is not just about broken contracts; it is about broken hearts.

These erotic aspects of the drama are unapologetically displayed in Beyoncé’s fierce performance. She does not present herself as victim, but as a woman invigorated and empowered by love. She even voices one of the great unspoken truths about the aftermath of affairs: the hot sex that often ensues. “Grief sedated by orgasm,” she intones, “orgasm heightened by grief.” Perhaps most strikingly, she is unashamed to announce to the world that she intends to remain Mrs. Carter. “If we’re gonna heal, let it be glorious.”

Once upon a time, divorce carried all the shame. Today, choosing to stay when you can leave is the new shame. That’s not to say we don’t do it—research indicates that most couples will stay together after an infidelity​—but we do it stoically and silently. Betrayed women only get to sing songs of rage and retribution and wield baseball bats after they’ve walked out the door. Politicians’ wives stand mute beside their contrite husbands at press conferences, and they are judged for doing so. From nationally televised presidential debates to the privacy of the voting booth, Hillary Clinton continues to be held in contempt of the court of public opinion for choosing to stay when she was free to go.

There’s no question that the cultural conversation surrounding affairs reinforces some of America’s most deeply held values: love, honesty, commitment and responsibility—values that have been the cornerstones of our society. But the intensity of the reactions that the topic provokes can also generate narrowness, hypocrisy and hasty responses. The dilemmas of love and desire don’t always yield to simple answers of black and white, good and bad, victim and perpetrator.

Our current American bias is to privatize and pathologize infidelity, laying the blame on deficient couples or troubled individuals. Beyoncé counters this tendency to individualize sweeping social realities, placing her own story within the cultural legacy of black men, black women and the violence against both. Her lyrics are intensely personal, but she frames them with imagery and poetry that reminds us that historical forces shape our transgressions.

Adultery has existed since marriage was invented, and so too the taboo against it. It has been legislated, debated, politicized and demonized throughout history. When marriage was an economic enterprise, infidelity threatened our economic security. Now that marriage is a romantic arrangement, infidelity threatens our emotional security—our quest to be someone’s one­ and­ only. Today, infidelity is the ultimate betrayal, for it shatters the grand ambition of love.

Yet infidelity has a tenacity that marriage can only envy. Whether we like it or not, it seems to be here to stay. It happens in good marriages and it happens in bad marriages. It happens to our friends and neighbors, and it happens to international sex symbols and superstars—to the “most bomb pussy,” as Beyoncé puts it. It happens in cultures where it’s punishable by death and it happens in open relationships where extramarital sex is carefully negotiated beforehand. Even the freedom to leave and to divorce has not made cheating obsolete.

Given this reality, it’s time for American culture to change the conversation we’re having about infidelity—why it happens, what it means and what should or should not happen after it is revealed. The subject of affairs has a lot to teach us about relationships—what we expect, what we think we want, and what we feel entitled to. It forces us to grapple with some of the most unsettling questions: How do we negotiate the elusive balance between our emotional and our erotic needs? Is possessiveness intrinsic to love or an arcane vestige of patriarchy? Are the adulterous motives of men and women really as different as we’ve been led to believe? How do we learn to trust again? Can love ever be plural?

These are uncomfortable dilemmas, but important ones. That’s what my work is dedicated to: generating conversations about things we don’t like to talk about. Infidelity is still such a taboo, but we need to create a safe space for productive dialogue, where the multiplicity of experiences can be explored with compassion. Ultimately, I believe, this will strengthen relationships by making them more honest and more resilient. I applaud Beyoncé for her courageous contribution to this conversation.

Betrayal runs deep but it can be healed. Some affairs are death knells for relationships; others will jolt people into new possibilities. When a couple comes to me in the aftermath of a newly disclosed affair I often tell them this: Today in the West, most of us are going to have two or three significant relationships or marriages. And some of us are going to do it with the same person. Your first marriage is over. Would you like to create a second one together?

The post Beyonce’s Lemonade: A Refreshingly Un-American Affair appeared first on Esther Perel.

I have just come back from lecturing in New Delhi, India — a society where arranged marriages live side by side with open marriages and dating apps. India is a society in transition. Urban India is transitioning from community and family-focused to individual-focused societal structures. The importance of love as a narrative of a chosen self is prevalent to modernity. Here, people are managing tremendous ambiguity.

Individualism in India is the new attraction, bringing along an assortment of new freedoms: the ability to leave the family home for the big city, a mobile phone that enables a newfound privacy, and dating apps that rebel against arranged marriage. On the other end of the continuum is the “savage loneliness of the Isolated States of America.” Some of us are discovering the unparalleled joys of individual freedom, and others are longing for the lost fabric of connection and community.

With this recent trip in mind, below are three articles to help you think critically about marriage and modern relationships.

What I’m Reading

1.) We’re not meant to do this alone // Tarja Parssinen via Salon

A good read on American Individualism and the impact on our families. 

2.) Everything you thought you knew about love is wrong // Aziz Ansari via TIME

An essay elaborating on the ideas from Modern Romance, an unexpectedly serious book by the very funny Aziz Ansari and my friend Eric Klinenberg. If you haven’t read it yet, the book (and essay) are about the challenges, choices and pitfalls of looking for love in the Digital Age amid Match.com, OkCupid, Tinder, Twitter, Facebook. Mr. Ansari, himself the child of an arranged marriage, brings a keen cross cultural pulse to his analysis of the eternal mystery of falling in love.

“I asked my dad about this experience, and here’s how he described it: he told his parents he was ready to get married, so his family arranged meetings with three neighboring families. The first girl, he said, was “a little too tall,” and the second girl was “a little too short.” Then he met my mom. He quickly deduced that she was the appropriate height (finally!), and they talked for about 30 minutes. They decided it would work. A week later, they were married… And they still are, 35 years later… The stunning fact remained: it was quicker for my dad to find a wife than it is for me to decide where to eat dinner.”

3.) Three Views of Marriage // David Brooks via NYTimes

Marriage is one of the more debated and puzzling institutions of all time. It is an endlessly fascinating topic, whether legally married, in committed relationship, or single.

The post The Future of Marriage appeared first on Esther Perel.

“A boundary is simply what’s ok and what’s not ok.”— Brené Brown

Every couple will negotiate boundaries: what is individual, what is ours, and what is public. The architecture of a relationship is made up of a web of rules and roles that we begin weaving on the first date. It never ceases to amaze me how a little unit of two can be such a complex social system. The moment two people become a couple, they set out to negotiate boundaries—what is in and what is out. Who is in and who is out? What are we free to do alone and what do we share? Do we go to bed at the same time? Do we combine our finances? Whose name is on the deed? Will you be joining my family every Christmas?

There are explicit boundary markers that delineate our public contract and spoken agreement (i.e. wedding vows), as well as implicit boundaries we make with ourselves about where we draw our lines and create our own demarcation.

Sometimes we work out these arrangements head on, but more often we go by trial and error. We see how much we can get away with before trip-wiring on sensitivities. “Why didn’t you ask me to join you?” “I thought we’d travel together.” Why don’t you want to stay over at my place?”

A look, a comment, a bruised silence are the clues we have to interpret. We infer how often to see each other, how often to talk, and how much sharing is expected. We sift through our respective friendships and decide how important they’re allowed to be now that we have each other. We sort out ex-lovers—do we know about them, talk about them, stay friends with them on Facebook? Whether above board or below, we delineate the boundaries of separateness and togetherness.

Today, our definitions and expectations of commitment are transforming. These lines that are drawn are not as obvious as people think they are, and therefore it is important conversation to have early on in relationships. Often conversations about boundaries are conversation stoppers, after one person has crossed an implicit boundary of the other. Instead, initiate a conversation to set yourself and your relationship up for success.

Relationship boundaries are not a topic that you negotiate only once. Your personal and couple-dynamic boundaries may change based on your relationship or your individual preferences at varying stages of your life. The most successful couples are agile, and allow this to be an open and ongoing discussion.

In this six-minute video, Brené Brown speaks about how boundaries are the key to self love and treating others with love. What boundaries are important to you and your sense of self? Leave your thoughts in the comments.

Warmly,

Esther

The post Why successful couples have boundaries appeared first on Esther Perel.

“I work long hours and at the end of the day I don’t feel like having sex. Any tips on how to shake off the stress of the day when it comes to an end?” —Claire, 41

When people used to work at the factory or on the farm, they came home from work. The separation between home life and work life was clear. But for so many of us today, the lines are blurred. It’s not uncommon for Claire to receive an email at 10:30 at night, and be expected to reply within 30 minutes.

We live in a goal-oriented society, where capitalism and productivity are top priority. Yet, play is an important part of life, and one that adults often neglect. Just as you nurture your career, you also need to nurture the erotic in your relationship. We can only play when we are finished working, and most of us today never feel like the work has ended. You can’t be sexual if you’re still in busy worker-bee mode.

Even people who look forward to being sexual with their partner must go through a transition from responsibility to pleasure. This is a difficult transition for many of us. There are two internal transitions that must occur before you can think about entering an erotic space:

Professional → Partner then Partner → Lover.

Eroticism at home requires active engagement and willful intent; it doesn’t just happen. It requires that you create your own demarcation between pragmatism and pleasure and that you cultivate a space where a sense of intrigue and curiosity can emerge. 

1. Build anticipation throughout the day

Committed sex is premeditated. Anticipation and imagination are the precursors and can be as enchanting as the act itself. For example, imagine you have tickets to go hear a favorite band. Throughout the day, you’ll be savoring the thought of the songs they may play, what you’ll wear, the memories that you will share, of other times you saw this band, etc. Unconsciously, you’re setting expectations and building anticipation for a wonderful night, and you feel energized and alive. It is the same sexually speaking.

Let your partner know that tonight, you want to create a digital free zone in the home and all devices are cut off at 9:30pm.
Send a suggestive text or email to your partner.
Buy wine, lube or flowers on your lunch break: whatever invites love-making in your unique dynamic.  

2. Create and maintain a relaxing ritual at the end of the day

No matter whether you commute, or work from home, you must mark the end of your work day by entering a soothing ritual of your choice. It can be an indulgent, playful, or a guilty pleasure. Shift your context by sending a message to your brain: it’s time to start relaxing. If you spend most of your day sitting down, try incorporating any movement into your ritual. If you’re on your feet, try reading or listening to music. Go for a walk. Take a shower. Read a magazine. Whatever works for you.



3. Connect with your partner when you get home

Are you the person who comes into the house and looks at the mail first, or checks the pets, or the plants, or the windows? If so, remember this: people first. It’s important to give your relationship your focused attention. Make it a habit to kiss your partner when you get home. It doesn’t need to be blatantly sexual. It’s the focused attention that invites the erotic. Even a loving gaze sets the right tone.

4. Change the mood and ambiance

Create the space in which you transition from your roles as parents/business partners/friends, into your roles as lovers. Shift from focusing on your responsibility for others to self care. Again, no pressure, even if there is no sex, you’ll enjoy being physical and sensual together. Here are some simple ideas to set the stage:

Put on your pre-set love making tracks
Take a short walk
Open a bottle of wine
Draw a bath


Light candles
Read out loud to each other (not about the election)

These are not immediate turn ons, but they help you switch mindset, mood, and sensibility. The point is to create an erotic space where pleasure exists for its own sake, where “pleasure is the measure” and where sex can take place without pressure. By successfully managing the transition from work to home, you can create space to enter a playful erotic zone. 

What are the cues, codes, and rituals that you and your partner perform to establish the boundary between your productive and your erotic selves? Share your tips in the comments. I would love to hear from you.

Warmly,

Esther  

The post Rituals to Transition from Work to Play appeared first on Esther Perel.

“When we first started dating, we partied and drank a lot. And when I drink, I don’t orgasm, so I got into the habit of faking it. We got married and I stopped pretending, but I never told him. And now, he can’t understand why I don’t orgasm in five minutes any more. He married this hot, young thing who was crazy for sex but essentially, I lied. I want a fulfilling sex life with my husband. How do I turn things around? Do I tell the truth?”

— Sarah, 32

It’s old news that women lie about their pleasure (or lack-thereof). When sex was primarily a woman’s marital duty, and it was all for him, she often faked orgasm to get it over with. But what are we to make of the fact that so many women in our “liberated” Western society still feel compelled to play the same game? One would think that an increased level of sexual freedom is correlated to increased honesty. Not so. Now that her orgasm is an important affirmation of his sexual prowess, women have a new reason to keep pretending. Her pleasure is proof of his masculinity and how adept he is in bed.

I see ‘faking orgasm’ as part of longstanding gender dynamics, traditional power structures, poor sexual education, and persistent myths and stereotypes about sexual performance. Chief among them, that reaching the finish line signals the deed is done. Orgasm is not just that moment of climax; it’s a full body pleasure, not just one event. Nobody is served when partners lie about their needs, preferences, and dislikes. The result is a dissatisfying sexual experience for both.

What else is wrong with this charade? Clearly, she’s not fulfilled, and lying to protect his ego maintains the status quo. He has no way of knowing that she’s isn’t fulfilled and the conversation on how to please isn’t happening. She may think her lying shields him, but in effect he remains clueless and she, frustrated as the opportunity for him to do better is squandered. Sarah and Damian are stuck in a cycle of displeasure.

If this sounds familiar, here are a few ways you can enter into a mature era of sexual connection.

Establish the Conversation

Simply state that honesty is important to you, and that your partner’s pleasure truly matters. And ask the right questions. For example:

What do you like?
What do you not like?
Are there certain things that I do that you like more than others? And why?
Are there certain things you don’t enjoy doing to me?
Is there something we have not yet tried that you are interested in?

When Sarah is able to speak truthfully about her experience, she may not discover immediate orgasm, but she will feel liberated from the pretense, and from lying. She doesn’t have to keep it up anymore. That in itself makes her feel safer, more trusting and more open to exploring her sexuality.

Shift the focus: there is a whole person, not just genitals.

Practice giving and receiving touch in less obvious parts of the body. For example, caress the neck, arms, back of the knees or curve of the spine. The clitoris is just the tip of the volcano; women have a largely unknown network of structures responsible for arousal and orgasm. All the body parts you’ll never see focused on in porn. You can also play with energetic touch, by touching me without touching me. Let your hand just hover over the other’s body. Lastly, try having the slowest sex you’ve ever had. No matter how slow you think you are, you could probably still go slower. The point being, you are not aiming for any outcome, you are simply exploring each other’s bodies. “Pleasure is the measure” says Emily Nagoski in the highly recommended book Come as You Are.

Give active feedback.

Tell him that you want to be able to take the time you need to become aroused or to climax without worrying that it’s taking too long or that he’s getting bored. Most men, once they know, and see the pleasure you experience, are more than motivated to do it again.

I can’t express to you enough how many women have told me that the “coming out” conversation about her lying is such a turning point in her relationship and in her sexual development. And if her partner is chronically defensive and responds with counter attack, i.e. what’s wrong with you, then perhaps a therapist may be helpful, or if not, it is a sign that her partner is not ready for a mature sexual intimacy. Sarah may need to seek new arms.

Have you ever had to start a tough conversation about sex with your partner? Share your thoughts on the best way to initiate those discussions in the comments.

Warmly,

Esther

 

 

Recommended Resources

She Comes First // Ian kerner

Come As You Are // Emily Nagoski

The post Sexual Honesty: You Don’t Have to Fake It appeared first on Esther Perel.

“When should we start talking to our kids about sex? I’m 6 months pregnant with my second child, and our 5 year old daughter is touching my belly, asking where her baby brother is going to come from. I have no idea what to tell her, or how.” — Megha, 39

Once a child understands death, they are ready to hear about birth. At four years old, we are great theologians. Children begin to ask, “Where did Grandma go?” and “How did my little sister get here?” Talking with kids about sex is one of the best things you can do as a parent to set them up to enjoy a healthy relationship further on; Not to mention, reduce the risk of unwanted sex, teen pregnancy and STDs. By the time they turn nineteen, 70% of teens will have had sex. You can help them make that a positive, safe experience. Here’s how you can do it.

How you behave in front of your children is the first conversation.

Talking about sex with your kids is not just about having “the TALK.” It is embedded in how you, as the adults, behave around them. Many parents keep sex hidden from their children in an attempt to protect them. We are afraid that our adult sexuality will somehow damage our kids — that it’s inappropriate or dangerous. But whom are we protecting? Children who see their primary caregivers at ease expressing affection (within appropriate boundaries) are more likely to embrace sexuality with the healthy combination of respect, responsibility, and curiosity it deserves. By censoring our sexuality, curbing our desires, or renouncing them altogether, we hand our inhibitions intact to the next generation.

It’s okay to talk about pleasure.

Sex is about pleasure, we do it because it feels good. Procreation can be an outcome of sex but for most people—especially for teenagers—the aim is self-discovery, connection, affirmation and pleasure. Sex education in America rarely discusses this, which is a confusing message for teens. It’s important that everyone, especially girls, is raised to understand that good sex is about giving and receiving pleasure.

With a child, you can start seeding this understanding by explaining that making a baby is a process of adults connecting with their bodies and with their hearts in very special way; it’s what people who love each other do. You can say, “It feels good. Like when I do circles on your back or kiss your forehead. Adults have their way of expressing love that gives them a different kind of pleasure.”

Don’t be coy.

Be truthful and straightforward. Sex is not dirty or shameful or something that needs to be disguised. Don’t dance around the truth with phrases like “private parts” or “Mommy’s special friend.” It’s a penis or a vagina. He is Mommy’s boyfriend. Call a spade a spade. They’re going to learn it all on the internet or on the playground anyway, so be frank. Keep your answers to their questions short, simple, and to the point. Don’t overwhelm them with a dozen new words. Discussing sexuality with your children, is a window into feelings of self worth, aspirations, and anxieties about love and connection.

Make it age-appropriate.

If a five-year-old asks “Where did I come from?” You might say, “You came out of Mommy’s body.” If a ten-year-old asks, you might go into more detail: “After nine months of growing inside Mom’s uterus, you came out through her vagina.”

Use your judgment.

Do your research.

Talk with trusted friends.

There’s no golden rule.

You’ll be fine.

If it’s uncomfortable, know it gets easier. Talking about sex with your children may feel awkward, especially if you weren’t raised in an environment where sex was discussed. That’s okay. If they’re uncomfortable, it’s fine to say something like, “It’s completely normal this feels awkward, but I love you and want you to make good choices, so we need to talk about important things like this.” If you are uncomfortable, remember that you’re creating an environment where sex isn’t shameful or secret, it’s a normal part of everyone’s lives, and you want your children to feel they can ask you anything. Try not to shut down or put the conversation off.

In sum, sex is not the risk factor; being irresponsible, ignorant, and disrespectful are risk factors.

Look for teachable moments.

Never plan to have “the Talk”. The idea that kids will respond to one big info-dump about sex when it has never been discussed before is not the best plan. I can’t imagine anything more awkward. Start looking for teachable moments to talk about love, sexuality, relationships, bodies from a young age. You might discuss a pregnant character on TV or a cat having kittens in a story. Integrate the conversation into everyday life, step by step, so by the time you are having important conversations about birth control, it’s an easy conversation and your child feels open to discussing their choices with you.

What questions do your kids ask you? How do you respond? Was there a teachable moment you think others will benefit from? Let me know in the comments. Let’s share our knowledge to become better parents.

Warmly,

Esther

P.S. Parents in NYC, I highly recommend this upcoming talk, How To Talk To Your Kids About Sex in the Digital Age on March 9, 2016 at 7pm @ French Institute Alliance Française, which is part of the Tilt Kids Festival Talks for Parents.

 

 

Recommended Resources

It’s NOT the Stork! by Robie Harris and Michael Emberly (4 yrs and up)
It’s So Amazing! by Robie Harris and Michael Emberly (7 yrs and up)
It’s Perfectly Normal: Changing Bodies, Growing Up, Sex and Sexual Health by Robie Harris and Michael Emberly (10 yrs and up)
I am Jazz by Jessica Hershel (4-8 yrs)
From Diapers to Dating: A Parent’s Guide to Raising Sexually Healthy Children – From Infancy to Middle School by Debra Haffner
www.greatconversations.com

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Making time is a ritual, and rituals aren’t negotiated — they are performed.

Valentine’s Day comes each year with mixed reactions. We can choose to be cynical and focus on the commercialization, but many holidays have suffered the fate of superficiality. We haven’t stop celebrating Christmas, have we? 

The fact is, holidays give us the opportunity us to acknowledge new connections, losses, joys, and painful rejections.

Rather than make Valentine’s Day a holiday only for couples, let’s make it a day to toast love. We are all in relationships, whether in a committed romantic one, or not. Hence, let’s make February 14 a day to honor all the love in our lives, not only the romantic kind.

You may feel that unless your relationship is thriving and you are on cloud nine, you don’t deserve to partake in the celebration of love. As if those in crisis or state of struggle cannot acknowledge any positive feelings because it would feel fraudulent. In fact, when you’re in a rough place, this is exactly the time your relationship could use a good dose of TLC.

I encourage you to reflect upon your relationships and to reach out to those you love. So, if you were leaning toward just going through the motions this year, or dismissing Valentine’s Day altogether, perhaps think again.

Here are a few things you can do to mark a moment and express yourself.

Keep it Simple

Once I had a patient who wanted to do something special for his wife. He began designing an intricate photo book on his computer, and got so consumed with making it perfect that Valentine’s came and went, and a month later he still hadn’t given her anything. The idea was sweet, but he got so carried away with his desire for perfection that he forgot the original purpose of the gift. Simple goes a long way, and it doesn’t take much to buy flowers.

Think Outside of the Box

Don’t do your typical date night. Instead, plan something that is FUN, makes you feel alive, and that you haven’t done for a while. I always encourage an element of surprise, for it conveys intentionality and thoughtfulness. For example, instead of an ordinary dinner out, go to the Russian Baths, a joint massage, a bike trip along the river at night, or hire a singer to serenade you at your home. I know many of you long for more than sitting, talking and looking at each other across the table. But if you’ve already worked hard to get the perfect dinner reservation, make it memorable. Here’s how…

Write Something (But Not On A Card)

There is no more powerful gesture than to write something down about your relationship, and then, before the first drink is served, read it to your partner. Personal composition and reading aloud changes everything and adds the secret sauce. This shows the one you love, “I took time for you, I thought about you, I am telling you out loud.” This is the meaning — the actual dinner is irrelevant. Write something that gives dinner meaning, and read it out loud.

The post Reimagining the Annual Day of Love appeared first on Esther Perel.

Originally published on blog.museumofsex.com, October 19, 2012

Couples therapists typically have no idea what really happens after an affair. We regularly help partners recover from their immediate crisis, but what happens to them after they leave therapy? Did the insights gleaned carry the couple through the years of marriage, the slings and arrows of ordinary domestic fortune? Was there a brief, second honeymoon before the marriage reverted back to its pre-therapy condition? Did they file for divorce once out of the therapist’s benevolent gaze? Did either spouse commit more transgressions? Unless we’re among the few therapists who seek periodic feedback from our clients, we simply don’t know, and, without knowing what impact our treatment had on these couples, we have little idea of what worked and why. When couples leave us, we’re looking forward to what their future holds; however, I’m intrigued by what we might learn from looking back.

For several years, I’ve been contacting couples I’ve treated to find out more about the long-term impact of the infidelity that brought them to therapy. With those couples who’ve remained together in the intervening years, I offered a free follow-up interview to discuss how they regard the infidelity retrospectively, and how they integrated the experience into the ongoing narrative of their relationship. All marriages are alike to the degree that confronting an affair forces the couple to reevaluate their relationship, but dissimilar in how the couple lives with the legacy of that affair. I already knew the marriages I was tracing in these follow-up interviews had survived; now I wanted to assess the quality of that survival. What were the useful shock absorbers that sustained the couple? Did they think that therapy had helped?

Specificities notwithstanding, I identified three basic patterns in the way couples reorganize themselves after an infidelity–they never really get past the affair, they pull themselves up by the bootstraps and let it go, or they leave it far behind.

In some marriages, the affair isn’t a transitional crisis, but a black hole trapping both parties in an endless round of bitterness, revenge, and self-pity. These couples endlessly gnaw at the same bone, circle and recircle the same grievances, reiterate the same mutual recriminations, and blame each other for their agony. Why they stay in the marriage is often as puzzling as why they can’t get beyond their mutual antagonism.

A second pattern is found in couples who remain together because they honor values of lifelong commitment and continuity, family loyalty, and stability. They want to stay connected to their community of mutual friends and associates or have a strong religious affiliation. These couples can move past the infidelity, but they don’t necessarily transcend it. Their marriages revert to a more or less peaceful version of the way things were before the crisis, without undergoing any significant change in their relationship.

For some couples, however, the affair becomes a transformational experience and catalyst for renewal and change. This outcome illustrates that therapy has the potential to help couples reinvent their marriage by mining the resilience and resourcefulness each partner brings to the table.

Stuck in the Past

“Every time I can’t get Marc on the phone, I’m reminded of how he wouldn’t answer when he was with the other women,” says Debbie, still bitter three years after she discovered his affair–the latest in a string of extramarital dalliances. Married to Marc for 14 years, she decided to remain with him ostensibly to preserve the family. She constantly makes him feel that he’s lucky she didn’t kick him out, as if he’s the only one who stands to lose everything they’ve built if they divorce.

Since the transgression, Debbie has assumed a sense of moral superiority, believing that Marc has never fully owned up to the wrongness of his behavior. In her eyes, forgiving him wouldn’t repair the marriage, but would instead effectually give him a clean slate, allowing him to feel that he no longer has any reason to feel guilty. Her refusal to “let bygones be bygones,” as she sarcastically put it, was evident when they talked about sex. “I want to make love,” Debbie said, “but it would be as if I’m telling him everything is OK now.” They haven’t had sex since the affair three years ago, except during the few days right after the discovery, when sex is often used to ward off loss.

There’s no way that he can be reassuring about his renewed commitment to her, Marc says, when she only responds to him with biting sarcasm and condescension. Often, he adds, she ruins what might be perfect moments between them–their daughter’s piano recital or a dinner with friends. “There are no perfect moments,” she sneers. With a tired voice, he tells her, “I’m here and I’m ready to rebuild.” She replies, “I haven’t made up my mind.” She felt so rejected by Marc that she still doesn’t feel that he really wants to be with her, she explains. Their dialogue has become rigid, narrow, and predictable.

When Debbie brings up the affairs, Marc alternates between justifying and blaming himself. He says that she was no innocent bystander, citing her continual criticism of him and hair-trigger temper that predated his adulteries. While the dismal state of their marriage before his affairs was a joint production, Marc says, Debbie refuses to take any responsibility for her part in the decline of the relationship in the past or the present. He thinks he’s expressed shame, guilt, and remorse, but it just won’t ever be enough. Infidelity remains at the epicenter of their relationship, and they tag it onto every disagreement between them.

In fact, it’s likely that the pair would have had the same miserable interactions had there been no infidelity. Couples like these live in a permanent state of contraction, sharing a cell in marital prison. To the betrayed spouse, the betrayer becomes the sum total of the transgressions, with few redeeming qualities. To the betrayer, the betrayed spouse becomes the sum total of a vengeful fury. I’m reminded of this phrase: “Resentment is like swallowing poison and waiting for the other person to die.”

When couples like Marc and Debbie come to therapy, it’s often at the insistence of the partner who endured the affair, who seeks somebody who can honor his or her grief, dismay, and turmoil. Just as often, betrayed partners need moral confirmation, viewing themselves as the victims and their partners as perpetrators, if not unredeemable villains. A first step is explaining to them that wholesale condemnation distracts them from tackling the real relationship issues. I introduce a neutral perspective that allows us to explore the motives and meaning of the affair. But in these highly reactive couples, there’s little room for neutrality, because the partners take the call for self-reflection as a personal attack: “Are you saying that because I fall asleep at 9 o’clock every night that it’s my fault he had an affair?” a betrayed spouse will practically shriek. “So what if I want nothing to do with you sexually? I refuse to take the blame for your cheating!”

I also have to address the obsession with the affair that seems to stay at the center of these relationships, sometimes for years. The betrayed person relentlessly replays the stories in his head and hunts for lies, even if it’s humiliating to do so. He turns himself into an amateur detective. One betrayed partner told me, “I check her computer, I go into her phone. When I left for a weekend, I kept calling home and got no answer. When I found out that she’d left the kids with her sister, I instantly thought she was seeing him again.” To which his wife answered with bitter resignation, “He never actually asks me, he just assumes.” Accurate information–the spouse was engaged in some perfectly innocent activity–diffuses the distrust, but the calm lasts only until the next bout of insecurity. This cycle makes it impossible for the betrayed partner to feel loved again.

I believe that genuine trust rests on our ability to tolerate what we don’t know about the other, and as long as we’re driven to uncover every detail, we can’t trust. In these couples, past experiences of abandonment and rejection loom large and keep trust from being reestablished. Reclaiming a sense of reality after the revelation of the affair is essential for the betrayed spouse, but some remain tethered to their investigative quest–rifling through credit card statements and cell phone bills, repeatedly pressing the browser’s “back” button, listening in on phone calls.

In an effort to allay their anxieties, these spouses establish a regime of control in which intimacy is confused with surveillance. Their myriad questions are less about honoring closeness than about intrusiveness. The interrogations, the injunctions, and even the forensic evidence fail to assuage their fundamental fears. I help them move their stance from detective to researcher or explorer. Rather than scavenge for the sordid details, it would be more enlightening to ask questions that probe the meaning of the affair, like: How did your lover illuminate other parts of you? Did you think of me when this was going on? Were you afraid to lose me, our family, the kids? At what point did you realize you wanted to stay? If an affair is a solo enterprise, making meaning of it becomes a joint venture. Couples like Marc and Debbie, unfortunately, don’t get to these questions. They want their partner fixed. For them, therapy seems more a part of the penance rather than a mending experience–there’s no absolution in sight.

One feature fueling an inability to move on can be the unyielding hurt. I asked another of my clients what he longs for in his relationship, now that he’s five years past his wife’s multiple affairs. He replies, “To go back to six years ago.” He tells her, “I used to think, no matter what, I was your man. And you just abandoned me.” For him, it’s the inconsolable grief that keeps him feeling unsafe and in a permanent state of unhappiness. For her, a tortured sense of guilt and failure is unending. Witnessing his unbearable pain reinforces the magnitude of her shame and guilt. In the meantime, life with children and work goes on, but the emotional abscess doesn’t drain.

For these couples, it’s hard to look back because they never went forward. The affair has become the narrative of their union. The marriage may technically survive, but their couplehood is dying on the vine. When infidelity becomes the hallmark of a couple’s life, something has been broken that can’t be made whole again. The relationship is permanently crippled.

The Survivors

Joanna had fantasized about the moment for almost two years: she’d leave her husband, Michael, move in with her lover, Eric, and be bathed in a state of bliss and sensuality that had been sorely missing from her life. Eric had showered her with affection and a sense of importance–attention she’d only ever received from her children, since Michael had excused himself from these gestures, saying he wasn’t that kind of guy. Lassitude had gradually crept into her marriage, leaving her feeling more attached to the habit of being married than to the man she’d once loved.

Joanna’s transgression was an attempt to recapture what she’d shared previously with Michael and didn’t want to live without: a sense of importance and belonging, relief from loneliness, and a feeling that life was basically good. Unfulfilled longings drive many cases of infidelity. Joanna carefully plotted her departure, but when push came to shove, she couldn’t do it.

Often people begin to see what they want to preserve at the moment that their affair is about to come out of hiding. Perhaps not surprisingly, this is also when they realize that the lover was meant to be exactly that: a lover.

“Part of me was very disappointed in myself for not being able to leave Michael, and I wondered if I was letting go of the love of my life,” Joanna recalled. “But part of me felt relief that I was going to stay and not destroy my family.” Michael alternated between panic and rage, between begging her to stay and chasing her away. “I couldn’t believe she was ready to jeopardize everything for this guy, Eric, and I felt trapped because I suspected that her reasons to stay didn’t have much to do with me. It was more about what we had than about who I was.”

At the core of Joanna’s predicament is a conflict of values, inherent in the affair itself, not just in its resolution. When people talk about their fears, often they’re really pondering their values. For Joanna and others in her place, lying and deceiving are more agonizing than thrilling. They don’t set out to betray their partners. Sometimes, as in the case of Joanna, they’re motivated by a yearning for what they’re no longer willing to live without: passion–not in the narrow, sexual sense, but as a quest for aliveness and erotic vitality.

For these partners, sexual excitement and what they regard as self-centered desires for more romantic “fulfillment” aren’t powerful enough incentives to turn them away from the long-term rewards and vital obligations of family. They hold themselves to the premise “when you marry, you make a commitment and you must honor it.” These couples value family integrity, security, continuity, and familiarity over the rollercoaster of risky romantic love. There can be deep, enduring love and loyalty in these couples, but passion doesn’t feature prominently on the menu. However, while people’s values can remain intact, the decision to stay in the marriage can be heart-wrenching.

When I work with these couples, I always include joint and individual sessions, keeping all information from the individual sessions confidential. The purpose of solo meetings is to provide a private space in which each partner can resolve his or her individual predicament, no matter how long it takes. With these couples, the therapeutic process is one of reasoning and rational thinking, as a way to temper the turbulence of their emotions.

Couples like Joanna and Michael had carefully crafted a path for themselves in their marriage, and much of what they seek in post-affair therapy is to reclaim a sense of control. They aren’t looking for massive renovations in their relationship; they simply want to come back to the home they know and rest on a familiar pillow.

In therapy, I explore the riches of the love affair, what they found in their relationship with the “other,” and what they can take from it into their primary relationship. We draft the new amendments for their life, in the singular and plural. We weigh the pain of ending the affair and I always ask how they imagine themselves 10 years down the road.

With the betrayed person, we examine the ebbs and flows of trust, the sense of impermanence that snuck into the relationship, and their wish to return to familiarity. Therapy offers couples like Joanna and Michael a place to evaluate the fundamentals of their lives. We also address the hurt that persists even though the couple remains together.

Joanna and Michael ultimately were able to resume a life similar to the one they’d had before the crisis. “We weren’t ready to divorce over this, but we don’t see the affair as being good in any way. It was a kind of temporary insanity,” Michael sums up. Listening to them, it’s clear that they’re both relieved that they were able to pull through.

Once in a while, Michael can feel a surge of insecurity, since Joanna and Eric occasionally meet professionally, but his suspicion is intermittent and easily absorbed. He’ll inquire, “When’s the last time you met him? Does he have a new girlfriend? Do you talk about personal things?” On occasion, humor is the perfect antidote. Once, when Michael asked Joanna if she thought Eric was still interested in her, she told him, “I don’t think so, but here’s his telephone number. You can call him and ask.”

The Explorers

“The affair was a shock that forced us to get unstuck,” was Julian’s unequivocal response in an interview five years after I’d seen him and his wife, Claire, in couples therapy. “I agree that our relationship is now much better than it ever was,” said Claire as she turned to Julian and added, “but I still think that you acted like a jerk. You didn’t need to cheat on me to make the point that our marriage was in trouble.” While they still disagree on the way Julian delivered his “message,” they agree his affair transformed their marriage.

Claire found out about Julian’s affair through accidentally discovering e-mail messages. Deeply jolted, she sought individual therapy and reached out to her friends. But along with giving her support, they asked her to see that, while Julian had betrayed her trust, she herself had–as she later put it–”betrayed my vows.” Knowing that Claire didn’t want to lose the man she loved, her friends encouraged her to fight for him. So she reached out to him, and they talked with each other as they hadn’t done in years, sharing feelings and thoughts that had long been tucked away. As the conversations evolved and they began to narrow the distance between them, they felt awakened into a new experience of connection, in which they felt both great pain and excitement, as they never had before.

When couples like Julian and Claire begin to find their way back to each other, there’s often a combustive rekindling of desire, a mix of anxiety and lust, which many couples are shy to admit. In this emotional maelstrom, couples swing between starkly opposing feelings: one minute it’s “Fuck you”; the next minute it’s “Fuck me.” Then it’s “Get out of here!” Followed by “Don’t ever leave me!” Throughout this drama, Claire and Julian managed to sustain these swings without either one marching off to a divorce lawyer. Being able to express and accept such a wide range of feelings without demanding a premature “closure” made them good candidates for a positive resolution. Tolerance for ambiguity and uncertainty is vital to discovering a space from which a more creative and robust relationship can emerge.

In my joint work with Julian and Claire, I did something that some therapists might consider risky: I suggested she invite Julian to talk about his experience with infidelity. Paradoxically, I’ve found that this type of openness about one’s affair, rather than being destructive and painful, can be a deeply affecting demonstration of loyalty to the spouse. Telling one’s partner, “Okay, I’ll show you who I am. This is what happened, and this is how I felt about it” can be a way of saying “I love you and never really wanted to leave you; I want to tell you this because you’re so important to me.” Indeed, Claire found that having Julian talk about his intimacy with another woman was itself an expression of intimacy with her–increasing their bond with each other.

Sometimes the crisis of infidelity helps couples make a crucial distinction, one between a relationship based on exclusiveness and one grounded in the uniqueness of their connection. Exclusivity depends on establishing rigid boundaries: the emphasis is on “not permitting,” “restricting,” “not sharing with others.” Before the affair, Claire and Julian had increasingly based their relationship on this kind of external framework to set them apart as a couple. In contrast, through our work together, they learned to value what was distinctive about the meaning they held for each other, with the emphasis on why they “chose to be with each other” rather than what was “forbidden with someone else.” Ultimately, this enhanced sense of “us” is the most powerful analgesic for relationships at the edge, soothing the pain and promising a prospect of renewal.

Couples like Julian and Claire manage to turn the turmoil of an affair into an enlarging emotional journey. Each one takes appropriate responsibility for the deterioration of the relationship, focusing not only on mending the breach produced by the affair, but on rebuilding the emotional foundation of the marriage. Such couples tend to identify the affair as one event–but not the definitive event–in their history together. Rather than seeing the affair purely as an act of failure and betrayal, they transform it into a catalyst for change, an inspiration for a rebirth of connection.

All kinds of unexpected discoveries can come out of the crisis of infidelity. Claire, having had to reconnect with her own resources to weather the storm with Julian, experienced a new sense of self-reliance and a new willingness to take the initiative. As she learned how to express her sexual yearnings, Julian was surprised to find a partner with a strength and enthusiasm he’d never encountered before. At the same time, no longer the lone decision-maker in the marriage, he found himself missing the ability to make decisions for the two of them. While richer and more interesting, the relationship felt less secure to both of them. “I’m not sure at all where this is going to take us, but dull it certainly isn’t,” Julian said.

Reinventing the Self

Couples who can successfully recover from an infidelity often display a significant shift in language: From “you” and “me” to “our,” from “when you did this to me” to “this was an event in our life.” They talk about “When we had our crisis,” recounting a shared experience. Now they’re joint scriptwriters, sharing credit for the grand production of their life together.

Couples who think in absolutes are less able to integrate the infidelity into the new substance of their marriage and likelier to get stuck in the past. For them, the affair is entirely bad and destructive, a transgression against commitment and morality. Complete remorse, followed by dramatic confession, unqualified promises of “never again,” unconditional forgiveness, and categorical absolution are the only acceptable outcomes. But things are more fluid for those who see an affair as an event that, no matter how painful, may contain the seeds of something positive. Such couples understand that forgiveness doesn’t happen all at once, and they feel OK with partial forgiveness. To be sure, after betrayal, trust isn’t likely to be total. When declarations like “How can I ever trust you again?” are made by such couples, I often interject, “Well it depends. Trust for what?”

Above all, what sets apart couples who use therapy to turn an infidelity into a transformative experience is that they come to recognize that therapy doesn’t provide clear-cut answers, but a nonjudgmental forum in which to discuss their ideas of betrayal, both sexual and emotional. They discover that such discussions can become the basis for their new relationship. While by no means giving up on the idea of commitment, they learn to redefine it in a way that will prevent the recurrence of secret affairs and betrayals. For them, monogamy means mutual emotional loyalty, fidelity, and commitment in a primary relationship, even if, for some, it doesn’t necessarily mean sexual exclusiveness.

They find out that infidelity doesn’t necessarily point to flaws in the relationship. Such partners see the affair as less a statement about the marriage than a statement about themselves. When we seek the gaze of another, it isn’t always our partner we’re turning away from, but the person we ourselves have become. We’re seeking not another partner, but another self. Couples who reinvent themselves can bring this other self into their existing relationship.

People stray for many reasons–tainted love, revenge, unfulfilled longings, and plain old lust. At times, an affair is a quest for intensity, a rebellion against the confines of matrimony. An illicit liaison can be catastrophic, but it can also be liberating, a source of strength, a healing. And frequently it’s all these things at once.

Some affairs are acts of resistance; others happen when we offer no resistance at all. Straying can sound an alarm for the marriage, signaling an urgent need to pay attention to what ails it. Or it can be the death knell that follows a relationship’s last gasping breath. I tell my patients that most of us in the West today will have two or three marriages or committed relationships in our lifetime. For those daring enough to try, they may find themselves having all of them with the same person. An affair may spell the end of a first marriage, as well as the beginning of a new one.
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If everyone communicates their needs openly, everyone gains.

“How can I tell my man what I want? If I get even slightly turned on, he takes it as a sign that he can simply proceed straight to the gate for take-off. He’ll stimulate me for 30 seconds and get inside me. And in my mind I’m thinking: ‘I wish he would move a little gently, have his hands all over my body. Then I might ask him to kiss me in a certain spot, so I’ll give him a sort of hint of what would feel good.’ Sometimes he gets it, and he responds. But other times – he doesn’t seem to hear me.”  – Amy, 43

In this heterosexual example, women are constantly told that they need to tell their partner what feels good to them sexually, to be proactive with their desire, to be more assertive and bold. For many people, this is easier said than done. It can feel safer to remain passive and take from our sexual encounters what we can get. Women often tell me that they really like to linger in the pleasures of the preliminaries, that they like them as much, if not more, than the act itself, yet they tend to accommodate their partner and abdicate their wants. They tend to go along with a more stereotypically male definition of sex, where foreplay is the mere introduction to the ‘real’ thing.

However, it is precisely the anticipation, the seduction, the playful touch, the kissing, stroking, and gazing into each other’s eyes – all the stuff that fuels desire and excitement – that make them feel desired. It is those exquisite aspects of foreplay that, for women, often make up the real thing.

Many of the women I work with in my practice worry that they take too long to culminate in an orgasm, that their partner will be bored. Once he reaches orgasm, they give up theirs as if his rhythm defines hers. They fake their orgasms, they pretend. They tell me: ‘His ego is too fragile’. ‘I don’t think he can hear me’. ‘I don’t want to hurt him.’ Or: ‘I don’t want him to be angry and to reject me.’ Or even, sometimes, ‘I don’t know what I want, all I know is that I don’t want what I have.’ Men like to hear the guidance, but they can’t stand the criticism. It eats away at their sexual confidence. ‘No sooner do I touch her than she starts dictating to me what to do. I feel so tense following instructions. This tickles, this rubs. Here, she is too dry; there, she is too wet. Slower, faster, harder, softer, it doesn’t stop.’

Obviously, it’s tough on the partners too – these sorts of requests can come across as instructions at a time when both people in the room are at their most vulnerable.

Talk about your preferences and desires before and after intimate moments, not only during them. 

For women and for men, when we feel sexually frustrated we are likely to be irritable, less patient, more aggressive and tactless. Instead of saying ‘I would like more stroking’, we say: ‘Why do you always go straight for my breasts?’ or ‘You never kiss me’ or the crowning put-down: ‘I never had this problem with my previous boyfriend.’ As a rule, sexual communication around what we want and how we want it is better discussed outside the bedroom, not while we are engaging with each other.

Utilize non-verbal communication

I am a therapist, so I obviously value talking, but I also challenge the insistence of the verbal as the superior way to communicate. We speak with our bodies, with actions, with a gaze. The body, as a matter of fact, is our mother tongue; we express so much in the physical language long before we can utter one word. While I think that talking is important for couples, we are facing a situation where sharing is not a choice but a mandate. There is this perceived wisdom that if you don’t share or talk, you are not close. That is a false assumption and one that puts a lot of pressure on men in particular. There’s a lot to gain from showing your partner, non-verbally, what you like. Gently take his or her hand, guide it, move around so that you have got it where you like it. Books, magazines and videos might help you, too. And expressing appreciation for having your partner in your life is critical to helping him or her feel confident to take in all your needs, without seeing your complaint as a diminishment of his masculinity or femininity.

After all, too many men still believe that a ‘real’ (there’s that dangerous word again) man should know automatically what his partner needs. Both men and women fall in the trap of believing that if you need to discuss methods, it means there is no good sexual connection. How about rethinking that? Doesn’t it make more sense that if you feel you can communicate your wants openly, that’s the ‘real’ sign of a good sexual vibe?

Do you feel comfortable communicating your physical and emotional needs with your intimate partner(s)? Leave your comments below to join the conversation.

 

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