My recent song fix lately is John
Legend’s All of Me. One of my sons had me buy him the piano music
so he could learn to play it after he heard it at Legend’s local concert
appearance, and I have found myself humming it several times throughout the day. The lyrics of the emotionally evocative
ballad capture what I believe most couples want from each other: All of
me loves all of you, love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect
imperfections. Give your all to me, I’ll
give my all to you, you’re my end and my beginning, even when I lose I’m
winning, ‘cause I give you all of me, and you give me all of you. The words imply complete security in a
relationship. In a nutshell, we all want
to be understood and accepted for who we are, even if we are imperfect, and that
kind of safety provides fertile ground for complete intimacy.
Complete Intimacy
Complete intimacy is a merging of physical, emotional, and
spiritual intimacy. Marriage therapist
and sex researcher Gina Ogden found that most people see their sexual
relationship as one infused with meaning and spirituality, and it is far more
than simply physical sexual response.
There is no sex position, toy or technique that will enhance a couple’s
sexual relationship if the individuals don't feel accepted and safe enough to
want to be close. The foundation for
high quality sex is emotional connection.
In the words of world famous
marriage clinician, Dr. Sue Johnson, “Emotional connection creates great sex,
and great sex creates deeper emotional connection. When partners are emotionally accessible,
responsive, and engaged, sex becomes intimate play, a safe adventure. Secure partners feel free and confident to
surrender to sensation in each other’s arms, explore and fulfill their sexual
needs, and share their deepest joys, longings, and vulnerabilities. Then, lovemaking is truly making love,” (p.
186).
This kind of accessibility, responsiveness and engagement
was illustrated in one couple who had come to therapy initially because the
wife had been unable to achieve orgasm with her husband. Complicating the situation and escalating her
anxiety was the fact that she had previously been sexually active, and had been
able to achieve orgasm with other men before she got married. As I questioned her about her sexual history,
she broke down sobbing and disclosed that she felt ashamed and embarrassed
about her past and that she viewed her husband as somehow better than she was,
and that she somehow didn’t deserve to have a good sexual relationship with
him. She was worried that he would
figure this out and get rid of her. When
I encouraged her to talk to him directly in session about her fear and shame,
her husband responded by saying, “I married you because I loved you. I knew about your past, and it didn’t matter
to me. I just want you.” He continued to share that he was having
difficult emotions because he worried that he was undesirable to her. He was afraid his performance was lacking,
and that he didn’t have the ability to “turn her on.” They clearly both had doubts and fears about
being accepted by the other person, and when they shared their emotional
vulnerabilities and received comfort and compassion from each other, they felt
safer. While I don’t think it’s often
helpful to be sexually performance-oriented in therapy, it was no surprise to
me when they came back to the next session reporting that she had in fact
achieved orgasm, and they felt closer than ever. By disclosing their mutual fears and
uncertainties, they had created the “safe adventure,” of which Sue Johnson
wrote, and could experiment with techniques for her to achieve orgasm.
Sex as a Litmus Test
As a couples therapist, I have come to think of sex as
something of a litmus test in marriage.
When couples present with “communication problems,” or ongoing cycles of
conflict or distance, it is usually only a matter of time before they reveal
that their physical intimacy is suffering.
Rarely do I see a couple who report that the sex is “great,” when they
aren’t getting along outside the bedroom.
It’s not uncommon for me to hear that the couple isn’t sharing a bed, or
hasn’t had any physical intimacy, including physical affection, for months or
even years. On occasion, couples will
present with sexual connection difficulties up front, and questioning almost
always reveals that one partner doesn’t feel emotionally safe in the hands of their
partner. The act of physical intimacy is literally the closest you can allow
someone into your personal space, and it becomes very symbolic in
marriages. When the marriage doesn’t
feel safe in other areas, it can seem almost dangerous to get that close to a
partner.
Although our culture perpetuates rigid gender stereotypes of
a husband wanting sex, regardless of emotional connection, it is my experience
that husbands actually usually want the same kind of emotional engagement
during physical intimacy that their wives want.
One of the differences is that men are socialized out of identifying and
expressing vulnerable emotional need, so often the way they get those needs met
is through sexual expression. In the
words of one male client, “If she will have sex with me, I know I’m okay with
her, that she still wants me.” It’s
often a way men seek soothing and comfort, when they don’t have the know-how or
comfort level to seek closeness in other ways.
In sexless marriages, I observe that men sometimes become seemingly numb
to emotional needs, because their only way of gaining some kind of reassurance
has been erased, and they emotionally disconnect to keep from feeling rejection. The emotional disconnection makes the
possibility for sex even less likely, because their wives don’t feel emotional
responsiveness, and the cycle continues, downward spiral fashion.
When Safety is Threatened
Because acceptance and emotional engagement are so integral
to a quality sexual relationship, any perceived criticism can absolutely kill
the desire of either partner to get close physically. In one case, a wife was complaining that her
husband didn’t pursue her sexually, and she worried that he was viewing
pornography. He had repeatedly denied pornography
use, but explained to me that every time he became intimate with his wife, she
began directing him about what and what not to do. While it’s an excellent idea for couples to
dialogue about what they want their physical relationship to be like, and to
help each other understand sexual preferences, in this case, the husband felt
like he was always “getting it wrong,” and finally gave up wanting to connect
at all. On one occasion, he was having
difficulty with performance, and while it’s common for men of a certain age to
have some difficulty maintaining an erection due to cardiovascular or other
health-related challenges, his wife became very emotional about it, and accused
him of viewing pornography. The
situation was very anxiety-provoking and shaming for him, and he became
avoidant of further physical contact, unwilling to risk feeling those emotions
again. His wife hadn’t realized she had
had such an impact on him, and was blind to the fact that her fear had felt
like criticism and blame to him, shutting him down.
The pornography use of a partner can also endanger safety in
a sexual relationship. Women whose
husbands have a history of viewing pornography struggle with many barriers to
getting physically close. They worry
incessantly that their bodies aren’t matching up to the computer generated
images; they worry about the images playing out in their husbands’ minds; they
don’t know how to discern normal patterns of sexual behavior and worry that any
sexual requests are a result of viewing pornography. I had one female client concerned that her
husband wanted her to wear lingerie. She
didn’t know if this was normal or if it was because he had a history of viewing
pornography. When I told her it was not
uncommon for men to respond to visual cues, and that back in 1989 when I
started doing couples therapy, before internet pornography was available, there
were indeed husbands who had a preference for their wives to wear lingerie, she
felt a little more comfortable with the idea.
She did not, however, want to be objectified like the women in
pornography, and she a very difficult time engaging in such a physically
vulnerable way with someone who had been viewing images of other women. It took a lot of her emotionally risking
sharing her doubts and fears and receiving reassurance from him, while he was
also abstaining from pornography use for a while, before she could risk
engaging with him sexually.
Amidst the incessant noise surrounding sexuality in our
culture, it is more important than ever for spouses to create a safe
place. Like any adventure, you want to
know that your partner will be there to catch you if you fall, and sexuality is
no exception.
Questions for couples:
1. When have you felt
safe with your partner?
2. When have you been able to be vulnerable with your partner?
3. What does your partner not understand about what sometimes
makes it difficult to engage sexually?
4. What would safety with your partner look like?
References:
Johnson,
Sue (2008). Hold Me Tight: Seven Conversations for a Lifetime of Love, New
York: Little, Brown & Company.
Ogden,
Gina (2013). Expanding the Practice of Sex Therapy: An Integrative Model for Exploring Desire and Intimacy, New
York: Routledge.
