"Comforted." Dr. Grant nodded before picking up her notepad and scribbling away. She lifted her head to give me a reassuring smile.
"Sex is not only used for physical release. It can also be used as an outlet for strong, heavy emotions. Loneliness. Grief. Despair. Loss." She leaned forward again.
"Brian, there's nothing wrong with having sex so soon after your wife died. If sex is what you needed to take you out of your grief for a period of time, then you should allow yourself a little grace. It's very common for sex to be used as an outlet after the loss of a life partner."
"It is?"
She nodded. "Sex can be used as an outlet for many things. People who experience the loss of a partner sometimes find themselves not only missing their person but the intimacy that came with them."
When she spied my glazed expression, she left me briefly to mull over her words in silence.
"When you ended things with your sexual partner, what was the main reason?"
I shook my head to clear it and took a deep breath. I forced myself to think back to the last woman I took to bed. "I just felt like our relationship ran its course. It sated me for a while, but soon it just became...not enough."
She regarded me thoughtfully as half the puzzle started to form in my head.
"This is one theory," she started. "But perhaps what you were actually seeking was a deeper, intimate connection. The same connection you had with your wife. When the partner you were with failed to provide that connection you were attempting, subconsciously, to replicate; you then decided to move on in an attempt to seek it with someone else."
"...perhaps what you were actually seeking was a deeper connection."
Strong wind stung my face, and I lifted my collar against the breeze. I barely felt the chill.
Instead, my mind swirled in a tornado of conflicted memories, elevated by the gentle prompting from Dr. Grant.
After her spiel, I’d sat there like a witless idiot, unable to reconcile her theories to the actions that had become second nature over the last four years. I stared a hole into her cream carpet until she gently reached over and patted my knee.
"Our time's almost up, Brian. Let's discuss our next session before we wrap up."
I gave a snort of wry amusement when I recalled my expectations for therapy. I had planned on mentioning everything in one go—my grief, my guilt; my addiction to dating women; before ending it with Maria. I expected a heal-in-one-go meeting where she informed me that it was normal to feel guilty over my evolving feelings for another woman before declaring me stable enough to pursue a new relationship.
What an idiot.
An hour after I got home, I was still sitting on the couch, staring blankly at my TV. The game I'd switched on failed to hold my attention as Dr. Grant's words rang in my ear.
It was pure conjecture...but was she right?
I thought I missed having sex, but even I could admit that the act itself failed to bring me much joy anymore.
Was she right?
Did I seek these meaningless flings because I was missing the spiritual connection I’d had with Hannah?
I remembered those painful, quiet days when I’d hidden myself away, content to be lost in the tortured memories of Hannah.
Soon, the house started to suffocate me and being in it alone became excruciating. When I couldn't stand it anymore, I made the fateful choice to take my depressed ass to a bar where I drank my weight in beer, half-heartedly chatting to the pretty tourist that had come in. When it came time to leave, I couldn't stand the thought of trudging back into our desolate home.
The more I analyzed my behavior, the more I started to see that perhaps Dr. Grant's words held some weight behind them.
And then there was Maria.
How did she fit into all of this? Maria was the first woman I’d wanted to spend time with since Hannah—beyond anything sexual. Not that I wouldn't jump at the chance to be inside her.
Maria and I met right when I considered entering an actual relationship. I figured that meeting her was coincidental— that she was the product of my resolve to move on because she was just...there. That any woman could have filled her spot if I’d met them first and the attraction had been just as strong.
But when had I ever experienced such a strong reaction to meeting a new woman? When had I felt compelled to perform a cold opening on a random, rainy afternoon?
Was itherthat cemented my desire to move on; not our happenstance meeting justifying my taking the next step?
