Recently some one sent me a New Yorker cartoon showing two woman standing on a corner chatting – the caption was “I feel much better now that I am back in denial.”
As anyone following my tale knows, I hit a personal low a few weeks ago and after having my wife read my blog entry about it saw my stock go even lower. I rode out the storm and decided that I would try accepting bi-ness as a co-existent state with monogamy, a standard I am still aiming for.
The problem started with my second visit with my new therapist on Monday. Actually the problem had already started; the visit was the opportunity for it to be revealed. As he had suggested, I was giving this a three visit test drive before deciding if he was the one.
I explained to him how well I was doing – no more bj’s for this puppy, home at the hearth, evenings by the fireside (well maybe no fireside, but it sounds so appealing). He was mellow but insisted on touching on topics no longer relevant to me – avoiding certain underage websites (which I do not cruise), avoiding trouble if one finds oneself at the cruising “park and ride” (another thing I have not done). All this good but irrelevant advice. I want Sigmund, so many deep issues to explore. I am not sure whether I have found the right therapist after all.
I go home and explain this to KA. She listens nicely and then in the calmest of fashions proceeds to “bitch slap” me. She is of course right. I have declared myself cured of any issues of being bi in a marriage. I’ll just stop – something I believe I can do by will power, though a more rational underpinning to my behavior may be just a tad healthier in the long run. It is of course my pattern with therapy. I am smart and a relatively quick thinker and somehow manage to convince everyone, particularly myself that all is well.
Once I start to think about it, it seems maybe I have found the right therapist after all. I have expressed behavior that is disturbing to me and seven days later walk in and re-acknowledge it. I then hold it against him that he does not join me in ignoring the last four months (or in the broader sense, the last forty years) – sweet denial.
KA wants to know if the therapist is too similar to me. She may be right again – he’s few years younger, wears a wedding ring and has a feel for bi-ness that seems to go beyond reading the book. I think I will forsake Sigmund for someone who seems to know the trenches we find ourselves in and the demons who are sure to return.