Back to Work
Back to the Fourth Step, back to the next script, back to buildling up to the next will-they-or-won't-they-make-the-damn thing, which should roll around in about the middle of March. Can I handle another round? You bet. Because that, after all, is what I signed on for.
I'm eager to finish up The Resentments. My relationship with my wife flickers between warm and wonderful and so clouded over on my side by all the angers and frustrations that I carry around... I am determined--sworn--to make this the year that I clear through the muck.
So: two last resentments having to do with sex, and then off that one for good. I'm going to roll them into one because even though the two incidents were three years apart they were really exactly the same scene played in different settings. Boiled down to essentials, the story goes like this:
We're staying in a wonderful comfortable hotel room in a cool place a thousand miles from home. The isolation, the change in the routine, the fantastic bathtub--all this combines to create a passionate sexual interlude. But more than that: it's all so wonderful that my wife is released into the kind of abandon she doesn't often allow herself--where she lets go and truly loses herself in the erotic/passionate/loving moment. Following this, I wake up thinking: this is amazing. This is what I've been dreaming of. We're getting to a new chapter here. And in both cases--June 2001 in Idaho and August 2004 in Utah--something happens in my wife's brain and within hours she picks a fight over something insanely trivial--being left in the car in the sun for too long while I made a phone call in one case (I will go to my grave swearing that the car was in the shade), and in the other I can honestly not remember the cause of the freak-out (and probably should). In both cases, she goes off on a tangent of anger and irritability that all my entreaties for forgiveness or rationality or discussion will not penetrate, and entirely wrecks the moment. In one case I brought it to therapy, we went over and over it, but she wouldn't allow even the slightest possibility that she had overreacted or made dark where there had been light.
I'm very glad that those two are out and written down and hopefully on their way out of the place they hold in my consciousness.
I'm eager to finish up The Resentments. My relationship with my wife flickers between warm and wonderful and so clouded over on my side by all the angers and frustrations that I carry around... I am determined--sworn--to make this the year that I clear through the muck.
So: two last resentments having to do with sex, and then off that one for good. I'm going to roll them into one because even though the two incidents were three years apart they were really exactly the same scene played in different settings. Boiled down to essentials, the story goes like this:
We're staying in a wonderful comfortable hotel room in a cool place a thousand miles from home. The isolation, the change in the routine, the fantastic bathtub--all this combines to create a passionate sexual interlude. But more than that: it's all so wonderful that my wife is released into the kind of abandon she doesn't often allow herself--where she lets go and truly loses herself in the erotic/passionate/loving moment. Following this, I wake up thinking: this is amazing. This is what I've been dreaming of. We're getting to a new chapter here. And in both cases--June 2001 in Idaho and August 2004 in Utah--something happens in my wife's brain and within hours she picks a fight over something insanely trivial--being left in the car in the sun for too long while I made a phone call in one case (I will go to my grave swearing that the car was in the shade), and in the other I can honestly not remember the cause of the freak-out (and probably should). In both cases, she goes off on a tangent of anger and irritability that all my entreaties for forgiveness or rationality or discussion will not penetrate, and entirely wrecks the moment. In one case I brought it to therapy, we went over and over it, but she wouldn't allow even the slightest possibility that she had overreacted or made dark where there had been light.
I'm very glad that those two are out and written down and hopefully on their way out of the place they hold in my consciousness.
posted by Tom at 9:06 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home