- Mating in Captivity by Esther Perel
“In a world that required lots of order and normalcy, their relationship had neither. It was as if they had fallen into a dark bottomless hole, and the deeper they plunged the tighter they clung onto each other, pretty soon the only way for them to breathe was through each other’s mouths, and the only way to survive the permanent darkness was the feeling of the other body’s warmth.”
“There.” He turned her the other way, now her buttock was facing him, his hand draped in front of her bosoms and they were in a classic spooning position.
“I still want to be inside of you.” He said and with that she felt him. This was becoming a pattern.
When they were in private settings, which was often the case, they seemed to spend a lot of time in bed, with him inside of her. Even when they were not fucking actively, he rested inside of her while his hand holding hers. She observed quietly but did not make any comments.
The sun was still up but school was out. Children with their parents, presumably, were laughing as they were led down the hill, footsteps faded as the street became quiet once again.
She wanted to ask him, “Do we have to go?” But no words could come out, he was fucking her again, at first gently like rocking a baby in a cradle but then it became urgent as if this was the last time they’d ever fuck. They always fucked as if this was the last fuck on earth, the world had suffered apocalypse, and tomorrow they’d all disappear because it was the very end.
She lifted her legs, resting them on his shoulders as he entered her that way, while still kissing her, he said, “I want you to be mine. Completely mine.” She caressed his full set of hair, and answered, “Yes I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”
She liked science fiction books and despised romance novels, anything to do with the overt description of feelings, especially female emotions; she hated them and prided herself for having none of them. She did not do emotions. That was one of the reasons this relationship worked. A relationship built on sexual attraction and adventures, not on the analysis of feelings. As for the affection and love she developed for this man who was thrusting him into her at the moment, it was just purely unexpected, and added bonus, she rationalized. She wondered how many women would agree with her logic. Women were typically trained to fall in love first before falling in lust. She had not quite figured out how it could be possible to love someone without first having sex. What if sex was terrible? What if you had decided that you’d love someone but realized that sexually you were terribly incompatible? She thought one day she should write a real guide to relationships. One based on sexual chemistry and not on love.
“Kiss me.” He demanded. She opened her mouth to welcome his lips. Their bodies melted together and she was feeling dizzy. He had fucked her silly. It had been a long while since they had sex. Since she had sex.
In a world that required lots of order and normalcy, their relationship had neither. It was as if they had fallen into a dark bottomless hole, and the deeper they plunged the tighter they clung onto each other, pretty soon the only way for them to breathe was through each other’s mouths, and the only way to survive the permanent darkness was the feeling of the other body’s warmth.
She had done a lot of reading on relationships. Not because she was in one with him, but because she was curious as to when her passion for him would die out. She prided herself for knowing the pattern and statistics, for knowing the end before the end would arrive inevitably. According to the books she read, passion was a result of unknown. The development of any relationship was always like a bell curve. You hit the epitome of high at 3 months. The proverbial in-love stage, where your pupils were dilated and heart pounded constantly, the stage when you could not possibly fall asleep or function like a normal human being. By the sixth month you would hit the plateau, where you knew the world was a better place because you were in love with the person whom you had formed an incredible bond with. You couldn’t comprehend why others could not find love, it was that easy, and it was really that magical. By seventh months your high would gradually fade, you would start having less frequent sex but you’d still have a great time at it, you would settle into a routine. Monday would be football night, Tuesday would be Chinese takeout night, Wednesday would be boys’ night out, Thursday would be your laundry night, Friday would be dinner date, and Saturday would be the night you two visited friends and showed your love to the world. Sunday was quiet. You might stay over at his place, or you might eat a quick dinner before dashing back to your own bachelorette pad. You’d look at your cramped space and dreamed of the day you two would shop at the IKEA in Emeryville, after going to see apartments in Russian Hill or the Mission. Occasionally you wondered, “Could I possibly fit my clothes in his closet at his apartment? Where would I put my shoes? Would he ask me to move in instead of us finding a space to call our own?” By the twelfth month you would come back down to earth. You would feel like yourself again. That feeling of incredible longing and excitement of being with that individual you had fallen in love with, gone. Replaced with it, was the feeling of security, sense of peace. You wondered what happened to passion, why couldn’t you feel the heart beating like you’ve just run a marathon again? No exceptions. Every relationship followed that routine, like gravity, it was science. Science never lied. Until now.
It had been 16 months. She had not hit the plateau yet. It frightened her to know that the bell curve did not apply to their relationship, and it puzzled her beyond belief. She felt the same level of excitement when she saw him every time. And each time a new game was invented and each time they renewed their love and commitment by fucking like rabbits, like this was going to be the last fuck on earth.
“We should go.” He massaged her head as he spoke gently. She had drifted to sleep, her hand holding his. She had buried herself in his chest, fallen asleep with the previous thoughts intact.
She got dressed. Still feeling dizzy, she straightened her shirt, her jeans, and she put on a straw hat and sunglasses. It was the middle of the winter in San Francisco, but the weather was warm, in its 60s as a matter of fact, it was as if a beautiful spring was arriving.
“Want to head to the park?” He asked. She agreed. She always just agreed with whatever he said. It was not that she was always submissive, she was a career woman, she did not just hold a job, she held a prominent job, she was, by all means, his equal. But in this relationship, she deferred to him in every decision they had to make.
He took his car out of the garage, a green Audi, opened the door for her and she glided in. They rarely went outside, it was the first time, in their 16 months long relationship, they saw each other in the daylight. She could see him better under the sun. His hair was longer, curly, and turning gray. His face still looked young but she knew that he had passed his prime but he was extremely handsome, to her. She did too but she was given the genetic advantage of having her parents ‘genes. Her dad was in his late 60s and looked like someone in his 40s. People still thought her mother was her sister. She knew when she was in her 60s, people would think she was in her 40s.
They found a bench in the park. They sat, watching kids chasing a football, a squirrel, and an escaped balloon. Children’s laughter was infectious, so she was laughing too. She laughed like a kid. He turned to look at her, he was smiling, he adored her like she belonged to him, like she was part of him.
“Are you warm enough hon?” He asked as he pulled her closer. Now they were sitting inches apart. Neither one of them liked a lot of PDAs, it felt cheap and overdone. But at that moment she wanted to kiss him. So she leaned over to find his lips and he sensed that too, and soon they locked lips.
Just then, she heard a woman calling out her name, “Amanda, is that you?” She let go of his lips, and his grip. A woman in neon green jogging shirt and black jogging pants was all of sudden standing in front of her. She looked up and saw that it was her high school friend Tasha. They had not seen each other for a couple of years, not since the last high school reunion.
She wondered if she should introduce Henry. But then it was too late. Henry had extended his hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Henry. Amanda’s boyfriend.” Tasha tossed Amanda a curious look – Amanda remembered that the yearbook update and realized why the look all of sudden. She felt a tuck in her stomach.
But then Tasha returned back to her talkative, warm self and started to chat with Henry. Amanda felt a little relaxed. It was how it should be played out, she thought to herself.
Neon green suit wearing Tasha had just come back from Russia for her two week long vacation, she had started a new job in SoMa, and she was moving in with her boyfriend of six years who lived in Inner Richmond, she had been shopping for a car, so that she didn’t have to deal with Muni. In five minutes, Tasha had downloaded her life. Then she turned to Henry. “So, how do you know Amanda?” She asked innocently.
Henry smiled at Amanda, as if he was trying to assure her nothing private or personal would be revealed. “I met her many years ago. We dated then. We started to date again, over a year ago.” He said, while looking at Amanda, still smiling.
“That’s great!” Tasha exclaimed unnecessarily. Amanda imagined that’s how Tasha was with everyone, always exaggerating every minor detail of the conversation.
She hoped that Tasha would go away soon.
“So how is it different this time?” Tasha continued to drill Henry.
“We get along really well. Emotionally we are compatible.” Henry answered in a very scripted way, as if he had been anticipating this question for sometime now.
“Awww…” Tasha hugged Amanda as she began to finally move on.
“You guys look lovely!” Tasha beamed a large smile as she started to put on her ear buds while touching the screen of the silver iPod.
“Thank god!” Amanda thought to herself, feeling relieved that the meeting was finally about to be over.
“See you around.” Tasha hugged Amanda and shook Henry’s hand, and then she took off on the green paved path.
Soon the park was quiet again. Children had gone to the other corner with their nannies, one could barely hear them laughing. A relieved squirrel came near the bench, seeking a nut someone had dropped earlier during the day. The sun was beginning to set. From the park you could see the bay, watching sunset over the San Francisco bay was always one of Amanda’s favorite pass times.
“Thank you.” She found herself saying.
“You’re welcome.” Henry squeezed her hands.
“I suppose one day it would happen.” She said.
“I suppose.” He agreed.
“You know I love you.” She said, nonchalantly. It was a fact. A known fact.
“I know that. Baby.” He released his hand that was holding hers.
She reached for his hand, and held it once again, as she wondered what he meant by that.
Silence engulfed the space between them. Fog was rolling in. She trembled. She forgot her long coat. It was going to get chilly soon. She wanted to take off. It was getting late.
The last bit of rays was hitting the grass. It was the perfect time for a perfect photo. Henry took a lot of photos of her, mostly in compromising positions in the bedroom. She never took any photos of Henry. For some reason, she never had any desire to do so but somehow she wished that she had a photo of him. So that she could look at it when they were apart.
“This would have been a perfect photo.” She looked at Henry, who was looking ahead, lost in thoughts. Henry had the most elegant profile, she was undoubtedly in love with this man, yet surprising to her still, she was still in lust with him after these many months.
Any photographer would know sunset made the best lighting. It was a wet dream to a photographer if they had seen this sunset. Amanda thought it to herself.
“May I take a photo of us?” Amanda asked.
“Sure.” Henry answered without taking his eyes off a patch of grass.
So she took out her iPhone, and faced the lens toward the two of them. Just before she pushed the button to take a photo, Henry turned his face to find her lips, and the first and only photo of them was born. Just like that, she had a photo of him, kissing her with the sun setting and birds chirping away.
“I should take you home.” He touched her shoulder, rubbing it up and down to keep her warm.
“Henry, what do you mean when you said that you want me to be completely yours?” Amanda asked.
Henry paused. Amanda knew Henry more than she should. When he did not answer, it usually meant that he was not ready to answer her. He did not answer. So she did not press for it.
Amanda remembered how they first exchanged the four-letter word. He said it on a couple of occasions first, and when she responded verbally the first time, she freaked out for a bit hearing these words coming out of her mouth, so she went into retreat. She panicked and wanted to break it off. But she couldn’t. She did not do emotions well and it was more than she could handle at the time. It took her another six months to pronounce these words properly, first in a note card, written in pencil, erasable on purpose, then out loud. Henry knew that she could not be pushed. She was always more readily to commit sexually than emotionally. But Henry had his own ways. He planted seeds. Amanda somehow knew this was not going to be the only time she’d hear his request, to be his, completely. But she knew better to push it any further, in part, she already knew what Henry wanted.
Henry drove quietly on his way to drop Amanda off. He parked his car one block away and did not get out. Amanda got out of the car, all smiles, manufactured, perfected, smiles. She had produced a small multi-use grocery bag. In the bag there were some bananas, several purple potatoes, a bundle of leeks. She waved a quick goodbye and headed down the street, at the end of the street sat a gray looking mid century house, with the door painted uncharacteristically red. She took one last look at Henry, and his car, and waved at his general direction. Then Henry was gone, with his green Audi, with his request of Amanda becoming completely his, still lingering in her mind.
Amanda fumbled for keys in front of the house, just then the door opened. Two girls in ballet tights and red t-shirts jumped out of the door, and a dark tall shadow approaching the door as well. The girls were ecstatic to see her. “Mom, guess what? We both got into the Nutcracker. Dad is taking us for ice cream. You coming?”
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