never had an orgasm this close to having sex, so I don't really know what my body will do in response to masturbating so recently. I’m following the doctor’s orders, so all I can do is hope that Dr. Colson hit the nail on the head, because if he’s wrong and things get worse, our last session will be just that—our last session. If I have trouble getting or staying hard, it could be the last straw for Becky. I feel a little nervous now that I think about it.
There's a part of me that wants to confess everything. Dr. Colson says communication is always the best way to go about things like this, and he may be right. Deep down, I know he is. If we remove secrecy from our relationships, things would get better. Nine times out of ten, it’s the secret that sends a relationship to the grave.
Secrets are equivalent to lies in the eyes of significant others. Your loved ones want to be included in what you have going on, and if you're a sexual person who wants to open things up in the bedroom, it’s always better to communicate that desire, rather than seek an outlet for your desires elsewhere. Tell your significant other what you want, after that, all you can do is hope they’ll appreciate your openness and at least try what you're asking for, at a minimum. I know this is the best way to go about it, but it’s easier said than done.
How would Becky feel if she knew I sought the help of a relationship therapist? What if she knew the reason I sought out this particular therapist was because I knew he specialized in sex therapy? Would she judge me for needing help sexually? Would she still want to be with me, even though I’m being tutored on how to please her? Doesn't that make me look ridiculous?
Or, would Becky like the fact that I care so much about trying to please her that I pay a man to teach me how? Would she want to join me in my therapy sessions with Dr. Colson so that both of us could communicate our desires and take our sex lives to a whole new level?
I feel like I already know the answer. I’ve known Becky a while now, and I know she’d appreciate me being open with her. I bet she’d want to attend therapy with me, however, there’s something buried inside me that won't risk being wrong. Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s toxic masculinity that tells me she won't think of me as a man if she knows I need help with sex. Maybe I’m just an idiot who’s making the mistake of standing in his own way like so many other men do. I don't know what it is exactly, but I know the strength of the feeling within me, and it always wins.
I know what I should do, but I don't do it. I keep my eyes on the screen in front of us, stuffing my face with french fries, and when I hear Becky’s phone vibrate, it only pushes my desire to open up to her further down my throat.
Becky stops chewing to look over at her phone. She glances at the screen without picking it up, then goes back to chewing and watching the movie. I let it go the first time, but then it vibrates again, and I wonder why the ringer is turned down. Is she trying to hide something from me? Is that Dr. Bishop doing more cabinet flirting?
The thought of Dr. Bishop alone makes me feel like telling Becky everything is a bad idea. I know how masculine he is, and if the whispers within the halls of Bayhealth are to be believed, his masculinity makes him incredibly desirable. Women like a man who’s masculine—a man’s man, and a man’s man wouldn't ask a professional sex counselor for help, he’d just fuck his woman the way she wants it. So, I swallow down all the things I know I should do, and decide to continue down the path I’ve already started, and by the time it’s over, Becky will think of me the same way women think of Dr. Bishop.
“Is that work?” I ask, doing my best to take all suspicion out of my voice. I end up with something that sounds concerned but also annoyed, and Becky doesn't look amused.
“Yeah, it is, actually,” she snips with a slight furrow in