| STORY DESCRIPTION Eden is a successful sex therapist trying to counsel Sabina out of a bad break up.
Their session doesn't go quite the way she planned . . . or does it?
Here, you be the judge:
"Really?"
In school we're trained to ask this simple, one-word question when a patient is finally finished rambling on and on and on and what seems like forever about their perceived life-threatening problems. And in truth it works really well, no pun intended. It affirms that we've been listening, that we actually care about whatever it is they've been blabbering on about, and that it's OK to start their ceaseless rambling once again.
After all, as psychiatrists we're paid by the hour, and people like to talk about themselves, in particular about their sexual problems. You see, being a sex therapist does have its perks.
Sabina, whose last name I'm not going to tell you due to doctor-patient confidentiality, has come to see me because her boy friend of several years, we'll call him 'Bob', the guy she says she was engaged to be married to this spring, abruptly dumped her. By text message, no less. He told her she wasn't sexually adventurous enough for him, leaving her dazed and confused, especially since she claims she did anything and everything he wanted her to do, both in and out of bed, and then some.
My job, as her sex therapist, is to separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, so that I can help her return to her normal self, whatever 'normal' might be for her. In any relationship problem there are always three sides: His side, Her side, and The Truth.
"OK, that makes sense Sabina. Let's talk about Bob for a moment?"
"Yes, please!"
"So you think Bob is a sex addict . . . ."
"I don't think it, Doctor, I know it!" Sabina is tensed up and starting to rise out of her chair, tear-streaked mascara beginning to run down her face giving her the raccoon look that every woman dreads when she starts to cry. I hand her a tissue and she settles back into the chair. I pretend to make notes on my legal pad, but in truth I'm just doodling, giving her time to catch her breath and calm down, and after a moment it works and she does.
"The thing is that sexual addiction takes many forms and sometimes it's very hard to diagnose," I continue. "Let me ask you a few questions about Bob's behavior when the two of you were together."
Sabina's perked up and is looking at me with rapt attention and all ears, ready to help me figure out why Bob is the sexual perv that she's convinced that he is.
"Does he read a lot of men's magazines, download videos, or surf the web for porn?"
Sabina stares at me for a moment, her baby blue eyes holding a blank, vacuous look, then rolls her eyes and brushes her blond bangs away from her face. "Well yeah, doesn't everybody? I mean, not so much magazines and stuff, but pornos, of course!"
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