Monthly Archives: February 2012

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Another Letter: The End of Secrets

Today I took Anne to the airport. She’ll be gone until Wednesday evening on a business trip. We’re not apart very much, and these short separations are usually good for us. We tend to overflow with love for hours before the departure, showing all the signs of sloppy sentimentality, but with real feeling behind it. When we’re apart I get the space to think about where we are and where I need to take myself, and us. It was during such a separation last March that I realized the time had come to prepare for the kind of marriage I dreamed of.

This time, I did the thinking ahead of time. For most of February I’ve been disturbed at my not knowing how to build on our success together after I took charge. I wanted to go slow, to let things happen as naturally as possible, to give her time to adjust. But I could feel that without positive action on my part, we were starting to wobble on our course. Then we got sick, which put everything on hold for over a week.

It finally became clear to me that by holding back in the name of taking it slow, I was not sharing with her what needed to be shared. I needed to be clear that discipline is close to the core of what I want for our marriage—that January’s spanking wasn’t an aberration. She needs to know the term “domestic discipline,” and how I interpret it. I need to be able to talk with her about what I’m reading and writing on the blogs. Yes, it will be a lot for her to digest, but I realized that holding back the flow of information was controlling in a way I wouldn’t appreciate myself.

Here’s the letter I wrote her. For all I know, she’s reading it this moment somewhere over the Great Plains. What her response will be I cannot know.

Dear Anne,

It’s been almost two months since I told you that I was going to take charge of our relationship and you said “okay.” Since then, you and I have been better together than I ever expected so soon. We’re more loving to each other. We communicate more openly. We argue less—hardly at all. The plain fact is that we’re more of a team than we’ve been in years. I know how much that means to you. It means a great deal to me, too.

It’s not a coincidence that things have improved. I’ve been becoming a better man—because you’ve given me the trust I needed. You’ve been working, too. I’ve watched you consider the way you speak and change course in mid-stream when you realized there was a more productive way. It makes me proud. We are relating better. We’re more considerate of each other. Stress seems lower. We’re more passionate on Sunday, and more affectionate between.

I made a decision last fall. I committed to bringing all of myself into our marriage. That means being transparent, to the very best of my ability.  It means being fully committed to our marriage, what I believe, what I want for us. It means never holding back the truth for fear of a scene. (My comfort is no longer the priority, when preserving my comfort might mean pulling back from the progress we need to make.) It means being who I am.

I’m finding that as I’ve begun this, my passion for you and my joy in life has rocketed. I know you respond to it, too.

Writing out the letter I gave you in December was a milestone. All the promises I made in that letter are actively in progress. I told you I would not back away from leadership, and I will not. This is to meet my needs, and to do right by you. You were not well served when I was too fearful to take the lead!

Among other things, I promised you that we will feel closer. That we will communicate more, and more effectively. That we will fight less. Those improvements have already started.

My goals for us include true intimacy, connection, passion, and joy. I want us to always turn to each other when there is trouble, never away. I expect us to move closer to the perfection of these goals every year for the rest of our lives.

I promised you that I would lead with love. I did not promise that the path would never be difficult.

The path to these goals involves commitment from both of us and the development of the strengths that each of us needs to develop. I need to grow in assertiveness, responsibility, and positive leadership. Your task is to learn to let go, to trust, to cooperate and to follow. To do so takes great courage and strength of will.

There is no shame in being second in command. To all the strengths you already use, you add the strengths that are needed for your role on the team.

There is no more indignity in following in a marriage than there is in a tango. The beauty of the dance comes from each partner fulfilling their role.

A relationship in which the roles are divided this way is called a domestic discipline (DD) relationship.

To me, the word “discipline” refers to the commitment by both partners to work on themselves and their marriage, every day.

To many people, it also signifies that the husband’s role includes physically disciplining his wife as necessary. As I did in January.

This is not something I made up. There are many couples living this way, and some of them are probably more sane than we are! I read their blogs. No one is a model of this kind of marriage—everyone must find their own way. But there are common problems that people experience in this kind of relationship, and people blog to support each other anonymously.

I don’t know whether you remember, but the day after I spanked you in January was particularly loving and joyful for both of us. I admit to you that I don’t understand it fully, but this is a frequently reported phenomenon.

I believe that DD will bring joy to our marriage. I believe it’s the only way for us to have the true intimacy I want for us.

DD seems to create a very deep connection. The connection it creates is primal. Even when neither person enjoys the act of discipline, it seems to reinforce the marital bond like virtually nothing else.

Aside from that, it brings conflict to a head quickly, and it resolves it effectively. I can tell you that on that afternoon last month, my feelings of hurt (for being shouted at and treated as your enemy) and shame (for allowing you to do so without consequence) were transformed instantly into a feeling of love that almost physically radiated from my heart.

The replacement of the usual unintended consequences of conflict—the resentment, the feelings of disconnection, the withdrawal and poor communication that may last for hours or days—with intended consequences is an extremely positive thing. This is true even when the partners do not agree, because DD mandates the kind of honest talking that can itself lead to resolution.

Something that is very exciting to me about this phase of our marriage, Anne, is that I have made it explicit that for me, working on our marriage takes second place to no other priority. And I now believe I can expect that of you as well.

I want you to know that all this springs from a place very deep in my heart. It is a part of me, but I would not bring it to you if I did not think that it will lead you toward joy. As I said, Anne, I am all the way in. There is no quitting for me.

So what is next for us?

I am stepping up my leadership, my authority, and my discipline. When I brought this into our marriage at the beginning of the year, things improved right away. When I showed you I was serious a couple of weeks later, things improved radically—for both of us. Since then, we’ve been slipping back a little. Just a little, but I can see it, and I won’t let us slip back into the problems we had before for lack of action on my part.

You already know that if you put up walls against me, attack me as a misguided way to protect your feelings, or treat me with disrespect, you will be punished. Not brutally, but firmly and definitively.

Now I am taking a more active leadership role and requiring your obedience as well.

This is implied by what I told you (and wrote you) in December. It is what is meant by “taking charge,” as you know in your heart. If I did not insist on this, we would never make further progress.

Doing this will develop strength in both us us that will result in a stronger marriage.

I am not going to bully you or micromanage you. I will not be perfect, but I will be fair and responsible. I am not going to overwhelm you with orders, but I will require something of you every day to keep us from slipping.

If you disobey me, the consequences will be the same as if you disrespect me.

I want you to understand that I do not enjoy punishing. It is difficult for me. At the same time, it springs from something very deep in me. Everything in me calls me to bring discipline into our relationship, for both our good.

Never forget that you have input. If I ever fail to listen to something important you have to tell me, that is a failure of my responsibility. Our Sunday summits are a time I instituted, not just to maintain our connection with each other, but for you to tell me what you need me to hear.

However, I also want you to understand that the decisions are mine. Your feelings are important to me, and your needs are critically important to me. Nevertheless, it is inevitable that sometimes we will disagree even after we talk, and when that happens, I will enforce my decision regardless. If I make a mistake, I will learn from it. And if I make a serious mistake, I will make amends.

We are going to learn how to do this together. Although we have different roles, we are a team—more so than ever before.

We both need to be happy in our marriage. I know that.

I have taken responsibility for our marriage, and the lead, because it is in my nature to do that. But part of my responsibility is to make sure that your needs are taken care of.

I believe strongly in the direction I am taking us in DD. While I will listen to you and make adjustments depending on what is working and what is not, we are going to give DD time to work for us. In January, we saw immediate improvement; I think we will this time, too. But from here on the journey gets more intense, more challenging. Giving up control is difficult. Submitting to discipline is very difficult. There may be times when you feel you can’t handle it. You can. I will be watching you and protecting you even as I challenge you. I will not let you come to harm in my care.

If after several months, you do not feel more loved and secure in our marriage, DD will be on the table again.

Communication is key. You have just as much responsibility to be open with me as you do to cooperate with me. (I will make sure you have a safe way to communicate with me without the risk of being punished for disrespect.) I want you to start by asking me some questions. If you don’t have any questions or you don’t want to ask me now, tell me that instead.

The me you already know, Anne, the gentle and playful man, the good friend, is not leaving you. The you that you already are will not be lost. As I said in December:

You are not going to lose yourself. You are going to learn more about yourself, and you will like what you see.

I know, Anne, that whatever you’re feeling right now, whether it’s anger, or worry, or any negative emotion, that you love me and that you will always be a full partner in our journey together. Do you understand that I don’t want a slave or a servant, I want a partner? And this is what I need from you as a partner, right now.

I have faith in you.

Acknowledge your fear, let it go, and trust.

I love you!

Kevan

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It’s No Accident

She’s had her defenses up as long as I’ve known her.

Never quite letting go. Never deliberately letting me in. Quick to defensive anger. Jealous of her independence.

During good times, it seemed I was a great addition to her independent life. During not so good times, I was a tolerable annoyance. At no time did I feel needed.

Of course, I guarded myself, too. Increasingly, I kept to myself about how I felt and what my needs were. If I shared something once and she got angry, I never shared that with her again. I played the victim instead of taking responsibility for my part of our problems.

My own distance made her feel unloved. Her walls rose higher. I withdrew from her frustration.

Yet we’ve always been drawn together. Even when we were barely relating as husband and wife, we remained attracted by the mystery and the challenge behind each other’s eyes.

Recently I was talking with a friend about a couple we know whose relationship seems to contain elements of abuse. I said I didn’t think it was an accident that they were together, and stayed together. I explained that people tend to choose the people they marry to fit unconscious needs, using unconscious perceptions. So an abused person will tend to pick someone who shows signs of being likely to abuse in the same way, without ever being conscious of the reasons for their choice. It may not be deliberate, but it’s not an accident.

In the same way, I think it’s no accident Anne and I found each other, who might seem so emotionally mismatched.

After years of dating nice enough women who were no challenge, Anne is who I needed to drive me to responsibility and dominance. After dating mostly men of poor character, Anne needed a man she could trust to penetrate her defenses.

She is tough, yet has a submissive side she almost doesn’t see herself. I am gentle, but I have a dominant side I’ve barely explored. Somehow we found each other.

I don’t know how. But it’s no accident.

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It’s Not About T Levels

From the 10th through the 18th, one of us was sick. We exchanged gifts on Valentine’s Day, but romance was pretty much off the table. We had to cancel our reservation at a nice restaurant on Saturday the 11th. Naturally, there wasn’t any progress in our emerging DD relationship during this period either.

Fortunately, we’re both better now (and sleeping in the same bed again. Sharing is not much fun when one partner, then the other, turns the bedroom floor into a sea of wadded up Kleenex overnight).

Last night, we watched House. The case of the week was a male inspirational speaker who specialized in urging husbands to adopt traditionally female relationship strategies. The case gave the major characters an excuse to engage in shallow debate and trade one-liners about sex roles and masculinity. Because the series’ antihero main character has been established as an obnoxious jerk, it was given to him to defend traditional sex roles.

Old video showed that the sensitive-guy inspirational speaker had once been a bullying cad of the Winning Through Intimidation school. It seems his change of personality was the result of an injury to his gonads, dramatically lowering his testosterone levels. In the end, he chose not to take testosterone boosters, in part to preserve his relationship with his wife, who liked him nice—even as she regretted his being a wimp in the bedroom. The possibility that a man can be highly masculine and a decent human being was not explored by the episode.

Anne shot me significant, teasing looks throughout the show—take note and learn, Mr. Man! When the credits rolled, I wasted no time. I came up behind, wrapped my arms around her, smiled and said “The changes I’m making are not a matter of testosterone levels or of ‘being a man.’ They’re about doing what is right for our marriage.” I kissed her a few times as she giggled delightedly. She knew she was teasing and she didn’t mind hearing that.

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Valentine

If you were a pill
I’d take a handful at my will
And I’d knock you back with something sweet and strong

    —Paul Westerberg:”Valentine”

My wife Anne is my rock’n'roll girlfriend.

We met at a club where our favorite band was playing. A few weeks later, we flew a few hundred miles together to see the closing show of the tour. Shared a room, chastely. We weren’t dating yet. But we toured the city, just the two of us, saw the show with a bunch of other hardcore fans, slept three hours and flew back in the morning. On the plane, her head rested on my shoulder when she was asleep.

It took me a few more weeks to convince her we had to be together.

When we were dating, she’d walk into my apartment as I was playing music no one I knew had ever heard of, and recognize it instantly. When bands came to town, we wanted to see the same ones. We’d talk about shows we’d both been at before we knew each other. (At one of them, her then-boyfriend had been the opening act.) She’d share stories of recording sessions she’d hung out in. Our music collections of hundreds of albums each merged together as if they’d been put together by the same person.

The singer-songwriter of our favorite band couldn’t be at our wedding, but he sent a gift.

Eleven years into our mid-life marriage, we still keep our ears open to twenty-something bands who have something exciting to say. But we have a particular fondness for the musicians our age who are still making a living at what they do. Not the nostalgia acts or the once-weres so much as the deserving never-quite-made-its. They’re not rich or jaded or consumed by regret. They’re still doing what they do because they find joy in it, and it comes through in performance. We found a club that showcases these people. The music is original and mostly recent. It’s loud and rowdy. The graying crowd leaves with ringing ears and satisfied grins. The difference between 26 and 52 has been established: 52 is better.

Anne is the reason why my own now is immeasurably better than my then.

She’s the crack rhythm section without which the lead guitarist is just a subway busker.

She’s the critic and the fan, the promoter and the sound technician.

She’s the inspiration, the audience, and a full band in her own right.

I am hers, and she is mine.

My now, and always, Valentine.

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Voices

My mother was a teacher at the high school and college levels. Her sister was a pastor’s wife. They are identical twins. Although they both have feminine voices, my aunt’s voice is noticeably higher and gentler. I don’t think either of them have given much conscious thought to their voices, but their different choices and life paths caused their voices to diverge.

When Anne is in a good place, I can hear it in her voice. It becomes higher, gentler, and more playful. It’s the aural equivalent of a sparkle in the eyes. It’s quite childlike, although I think she’d be appalled to know that. It doesn’t make me think of her as a child. It does let me know that her walls are lowered and her defenses are down. It’s where I want her to be with me most of the time.

What have you noticed about the voices of those you know best?

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Next Steps, Communication and Awareness

When I wrote “Adrift,” I’d been feeling that way for several days. As is the way of these things, upon writing it, I felt a lot better.

Even as I wrote it, I understood that much of my emotion was the normal letdown following any highly intense experience, together with the uncertainty I expressed in the post. Still, the question of what to do next was pretty vexing. And the dream was not random. I still feel as if we’re not quite journeying together.

Your comments got me thinking. Many of them came down to “you’re the leader—so lead” and “you need to talk.”

So we’re going to talk, and I’m going to lead. I may not know exactly what to do, but I suppose it’s in the nature of things for that to be true sometimes. I need Anne to know, really know, that I’m in this for both of us, that I’m not going to quit, and that she can trust me. I may have to tell her this a couple of hundred times before it sinks in.

Meanwhile, awareness is key. I’m no Zen master, but I do know that right action starts with paying attention.

Find my center. Know my goal. Offer my hand.

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Adrift

Last night I dreamed that we had a long bridge to cross. Anne was going to cross it with me, but we were separated. I went across the bridge myself, but after a long way I saw that it was washed out. So I made the long trip back to the starting point, where there was a big waiting area, like a theater lobby. I took out my phone and sent Anne a message, and waited for her. But she never arrived.

I’ve been moody for the past several days. I don’t know where to go from here. Despite the huge psychic effort I made to get us past the milestones we crossed in December and January, it feels as if nothing much has changed.

It feels ungrateful to feel this way, because we are in a better place with each other. Anne is noticeably more respectful when she’s unhappy about something. Petty conflicts are rarer, and when they start to flare up, we are both more aware and more likely to avoid escalating. I know that many people would love to have a marriage like mine.

All the same, the exhilaration has faded. I suppose I thought that once we were past that first hurdle, that progress would be steady from there. I’d feel the continuous high of knowing that we were moving, that we were on our way to that place of real intimacy, passion, and trust that’s my continual goal.

Instead, we find ourselves in a place not unlike the place we’ve always been. Maybe the lows aren’t as low, but it’s otherwise the same marriage, moving at pretty much the same pace, in the same way.

In the last couple of weeks in January, eager to keep the momentum going, I thought of implementing some rules. There was something small that Anne was doing. Something she’d stopped doing when I told her it bothered me, but then started doing again. I thought maybe I should count the incidents and deal out consequences when a certain number had been reached. It would be a way of keeping things moving.

I thought about it, but I didn’t do it. It didn’t quite feel right—too petty, too legalistic. Someone told me about “organic DD”—giving the DD relationship a chance to grow more naturally, rather than trying to force it by setting up artificial structures and little rules. Anne was trying, after all. So I thought working on being more assertive, rather than imposing artificial rules, seemed like a better foundation for long-term change. Still, I spent several days examining myself very closely, trying to determine if my decision was the result of fear rather than wisdom.

I can’t get the inherent uncertainty of this stage of our relationship out of my mind. It bothers me that—unlike most of the relationships blogged about, where the woman has initiated the new way—I’m the one driving this, that I’m the one trying to effect change, without Anne’s understanding or stated desire. It nags at me that we’re at such an early stage on the path that no one could say we’re firmly on it at all. I worry that if something doesn’t happen relatively soon that keeps us pointed in the right direction—something I should do?—we’ll be rudderless again, drifting, together, but not in tandem.

I feel my responsibility keenly. If we fail, it will be my failure.