In my youth, I had a sin – I worked in a night kiosk, and not so much as a saleswoman, but as a psychologist. There is such a specificity there – like taxi drivers or hairdressers. Only, unlike a taxi or a salon, a kiosk is a “submarine” from which there is nowhere to escape.
It stood in a residential area three yards away, so the atmosphere there was homely and neighborly. I knew who was whose husband, brother, matchmaker, and lover. At night, customers who had saved up money for alcohol but couldn't scrape together enough money for a psychoanalyst would bring me their secrets. Free ears, imprisoned in the walls of the kiosk, humbly listened to these endless streams of revelations.
Of the many stories and mise-en-scènes that forcibly seeped into my head, one in particular stood out.
Our hero is 34 years old, financially secure, has a wife, a son. Family as a family, a man as a man. And yet, something about him always confused me. And when he spoke to me one of the cold winter nights, I realized what it was – his eyes. I have probably never seen such sad eyes that scream about deep inner troubles.
A session of forced “kiosk therapy” revealed an age-old problem. He fell in love at 22, with the second woman in his life. They got married, and they had a son. Time passed, and, as often happens, due to inexorable deep processes, the passion between them died out. When they say “between them,” they mean “mutually.” He blamed his wife for everything. He said that there was everything – intellectual closeness, humor that only they understood, a bunch of mutual acquaintances and topics for conversation, coziness, comfort, a mortgage (although the combination of the last two “goods” is a typical oxymoron). But there was no physical closeness. That is, there was, but it was called something else – working out. So, she stopped inspiring him and kindling passion. At first, he wanted me to “help” him with this. But I replied that I specialize exclusively in “talking”, more than 7 minutes and with deep immersion in the problem. He appreciated the humor, but instead of leaving, on the contrary – he enthusiastically continued.
“I didn't notice how I became too close to her…”
That's exactly what he said – “too much.” I, still very young, asked him then: are there people who are too close? He looked at me with a fatherly look called “you'll understand when you grow up” and thoughtfully lit a cigarette. Without breaking the silence, I listened with rapture to his meaningful silence.
“Yes, they do,” he suddenly spoke. “I became a brother to my wife. A rare little brother who smells of soup and familiar conversations.”
“Why don't you try to change it?” I asked naively, suddenly switching to “you.”
“I don’t want to!” he replied. “Why me? And how? After all, a woman should inspire, impress, create the right mood, and we, men, only react to the fire in her eyes. And there is none!”
He became visibly nervous.
“I've been living like this for five years,” he continued. “If you only knew how I strain my imagination at the most crucial moments! But only she strains. No (he suddenly began to make excuses), she's good. Reliable, faithful, a wonderful hostess. The thought of not having her around scares me. But… I've completely stopped seeing her as a woman. I go up to her, look at her indifferent face – and I feel so sad… Am I really going to have to live like this for the rest of my life? To live only with the thought that closeness can be found, and everything else is acquired over years and with great effort…”
I was young then and generally felt sorry for and justified many things. Due to my lack of life experience, I simply couldn't take a broader view of many things.
Indeed, this is a persistent male opinion: arousal is a woman's job, she leads and sets the “temporhythm” (i.e., the degree of concentration of emotional states), and the man only reacts to it.
And yes, girls often relax in this, lose their shape, don't care about their “filling” – they don't develop, don't maintain interest in themselves, they perceive the man next to them as something proper and unchangeable. That's all. But give me an answer to a simple question – where does she get this energy from? To this, men usually start their favorite barrel organ about female nature, about its inexhaustible source, about the “beginning of all beginnings” and other convenient near-esoteric nonsense, in which they themselves don't understand anything.
But understand now – for a woman to excite, she must want to excite! Only attention, caress, a man's admiring gaze can awaken this in her. There are many examples when a woman began to shine with an inner light, changed beyond recognition, barely catching a man's sincere interest. This is primary. She does not have that “magic button” between her shoulder blades that instantly turns on her “nature”, don't cling to this nonsense!
There is a saying that always seemed absurd to me. And now, you know, I don’t think so anymore. It goes like this: “Fall in love with a woman — and she will fall in love with you.” In this context, I would rephrase it differently: want a woman with all your being — and she will respond to you a thousandfold. Believe it. Or better yet, check it out.
You men often blame women for the fading of passion in your family – they say, yours is unkempt, monotonous, with neither silk nor lace. And with a clear conscience (your own fault!) you want young “market girls”. You pour your energy wherever you want, except on your wife, because, you see, they “don't want” you!
And where did you get the idea that you should be wanted automatically? What did you do to make your woman want you? How long have you been surprising her? How often have you helped with household chores, which are sometimes more exhausting than hard male work? What do you know about her potential? And I'll tell you – nothing. So, excuse me, on what basis do you hide her libido? When was the last time you sincerely admired her? Not the capabilities of a new iPhone, not an expensive car, not a new version of “Warcraft”, but her? Her eyes, her smile, her body? When was the last time she truly impressed you? Her, and not the gigabytes of “traffic” flickering before your eyes? You spend hours playing God knows what, staring at the TV, growing bellies and becoming completely indifferent to her body. Who does she want, let me ask?
I have a great relationship with men, they have never wronged me in my life, and I have no gender prejudices. But here, guys, I can't help but summarize: because of your indifference and stubborn expectation of a signal from a woman, you are taking a serious risk. Imagine your surprise when she, pampered by the attention and admiration of another man, turns into the desired and long-awaited “hottie”. Only you will not be the one to remove the silk and lace from her.
So don't lead to sin!
Relationships are like a pendulum. Make an effort – push it first. The recoil will be so painful that you will still dodge.
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