Pt 3: You’re an arsehole

Her: How are you doing?
Saturday morning. I’d been up licking my wounds in the kitchen for a couple of hours by the time She came down for breakfast.
Me: Probably no better than you. Sorry.
Acknowledgement from Her.
Me: I wish I hadn’t said it. I’m worried about the consequences. I’m worried that there might be no consequences. I’m worried about what I’ve done to you. And I don’t even know if I’m right.
Whatever She said failed to lodge in my mind even for 5min. Whatever the detail, it was far closer to conciliatory and reflective than to confrontational.
She walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. I didn’t pull away.
Me: I basically just told you you’re an arsehole.
Her: Sometimes that’s what friends need to do. I don’t know if you’re right, but its something I need to think about and if it’s true then I need to change.
Me: Sorry.
Her: We keep going. And we keep trying. And we see where that gets us.
She turned away to have breakfast and in bruised tones we discussed the mundane requirements of the forthcoming weekend.

After breakfast She busied Herself briefly elsewhere. On returning …
Her: I’m going to the gym. Do you fancy coming?
Me: No.
Her: Ok.
She walked over to where I was sat and hugged me. I reciprocated to a degree. Her apparent contrition and, more importantly the simple act of physical touch, warmed me in a small way, and to a small degree, the enormity of which is paradoxical.
Me: Sorry.
Her: I’ll try to be less hedgehog and keep my prickles in.
It’s far from that simple, but it’s a start.
Me: Thank you.
Her: Just do one thing for me? Cheer up a bit?
Her tone was neither instructive, nor dismissive, but almost compassionate.
Me: Fuck off.
At least She saw the joke.
Her: I know. Asking the impossible.

She went to the gym.

She has been an arsehole.
I may have been too.
But I was not wrong.

The rest of the weekend was relatively civil. There still wasn’t a great deal of conversation, largely because I was still feeling badly bruised, but some of the chill had thawed.

Late on Sunday night, She raised the issue of our up coming appointment with Sue, the marriage counsellor.
Were we going to go ahead with the session?
There was agreement that, whilst We have talked about some important stuff with Sue, there’s little sign of a way forward, and without a more proactive approach to fixing us, therapy is not obviously proving good value for money.

We agreed that my Wife would call the clinic tomorrow, voice our concerns, and ask whether a paradigm that focusses on finding solutions is an option.

Lets hope so.

But before I go, I feel it difficult to know where my Wife is on all this. She called into doubt whether we should continue with counselling and, having heard my view on Sue’s efficacy, seems to loosely agree. But She also seems to see some hope in continuing: We’ve got the hard stuff out of the way, now let’s look at solutions.
Except the cynic in me reasons that, as She proposed we might be as well off with a self help text book, and seems to have significant issues both with sex and talking about it, it does seem conspicuously convenient if we duck out before we talk about sex. It was, after all, She who chose the clinic because they advertise themselves as selling sex therapy!

8 Responses to “Pt 3: You’re an arsehole”

  1. Mmm progress – of sorts. Like I think I said on the previous – I wish you all the best. Indie *hugs if permitted*

  2. My advice is DON’T stop therapy. This is serious progress. While it might seem useless, it has opened some lines of communication. You are both going to have to say hurtful things before you can find solutions. (((HUGS))) 💋

  3. I truly commend your patience and determination to see things through with therapy. No matter the outcome, you need to know you didn’t dismiss a possible solution.

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