Read Intimacy & Desire: Awaken the Passion in Your Relationship Online
Authors: David Schnarch
Tags: #Family & Relationships, #Marriage & Long Term Relationships, #Psychology, #Emotions, #Human Sexuality, #Interpersonal Relations
Monogamy is not simply a promise or a commitment. It is a
system
, just like intimacy. And since all systems change depending on who’s inside the system, monogamy operates differently depending on the strength of a couple’s Four Points of Balance (Solid Flexible Self, Quiet Mind–Calm Heart, Grounded Responding, Meaningful Endurance). Monogamy among well-differentiated couples feels, looks, and operates differently than in poorly differentiated couples.
Monogamy in well-differentiated couples encourages high desire. For instance, you’re more likely to want sex with a partner who has a strong sense of self. But monogamy in poorly differentiated couples encourages low desire. As we’ve seen, desire evaporates when someone feels claustrophobic from emotional fusion and borrowed functioning. The good news is that if handled right, the sexual problems caused by monogamy can strengthen your Four Points of Balance and lead to profound desire.
It can be shocking to realize monogamy is not a static commitment, but actually a dynamic system. Not only is monogamy a system that changes over time, the nature of monogamous commitment changes also. Connecting this with the Four Points of Balance can be a bit much to take in. So let’s slow down and take a look at how this all happens.
Monogamy creates a monopoly in the same way the LDP always controls sex. This is true in all couples. But couples respond to this differently, depending on their Four Points of Balance. Well-differentiated couples heed and respect the fact that monogamy gives the LDP a monopoly on
sex. Poorly differentiated couples act variously with ignorance, negligent heedlessness, and belligerent exploitation of this fact.
Monogamy created a “closed system” that gave Julian (the LDP) a monopoly on sex. There was no one else Karen could turn to, so she had to deal with Julian if she wanted sex. However, they weren’t negotiating from equal positions because he controlled when, where, and how sex happened. Emotionally speaking, he could name his price, and sometimes the price of sex was that Karen had to make Julian feel “special.” Sometimes the price was kissing his ass. Sometimes it was staying quiet when she might rightly confront him about something.
Like all monopolies, Julian limited the supply of “goods and services” (sex). He did this for many reasons: Sometimes he felt intimidated by Karen earning more money than he did. Withholding sex increased his control in their relationship. Sometimes he was angry about something Karen did or didn’t do. Sometimes he restricted sex to increase his bargaining power on other issues. Sometimes he did this to push Karen away or draw her closer. Sometimes he liked the way he felt powerful to influence her so greatly.
Frequently, Julian withheld simply out of his own anxieties about sex, and his insecurities about being “used.” He didn’t want Karen to use him in the sense his mother used men. His mother used his father as a stepping stone to “more important” partners. She used flattery, seductiveness, and sex to attract a progression of wealthy men. As a teenager Julian was nauseated watching her in action, sucking up to men at the same time she looked down on them. His mother excused her behavior by saying she was lonely, but Julian saw she was manipulative and exploitive, and used anyone to get what she wanted.
Monogamy allowed Julian to get away with limiting supply in ways he never could if he and Karen had an “open relationship.” If they were just
dating, or if Karen was free to have sex with other men, she could simply turn to another partner to fill the disparity in their sexual desire. But, like most couples (and unlike most primates), they wanted the sexual exclusivity of monogamy and fidelity. And this set monopoly dynamics in place, which Julian’s reflected sense of self then exploited.
Bargaining differs in monopolistic and free market economies, and this showed up in Karen and Julian’s interactions. In free market systems, like dating, people are courteous of each other while presenting themselves most advantageously. Monopolies, however, flaunt their power by inflating prices and insulting customers with a “take it or leave it” attitude. This shows up in dowry negotiations in arranged marriages where families differ greatly in wealth. In Julian and Karen’s case, he acted like she had to wait until he felt like having sex, and there was nothing she could do about it. The “nothing she could do about it” was her promise to be faithful.
In open relationships, the HDP simply takes her sexual interests elsewhere. But, human nature being what it is, the LDP usually doesn’t want this to happen. Among many reasons, this would shatter his reflected sense of self. He attempts to forestall this shattering by invoking fidelity agreements. This is how monogamy stops being virtuous or wholesome. Monogamy is how the LDP manages two anxieties at once: He forces the HDP to accept sex in accordance with his insecurities and immaturities, and he keeps his partner from seeking other partners she might prefer.
Like many LDPs, Julian knew this intuitively and exploited it. Julian had sex when, where, and how
he
wanted it. All of Karen’s initiations and suggested variations were rejected. He saw them as her attempts to control or criticize him.
Through the system of monogamy, Julian created other things that he himself didn’t appreciate. He didn’t realize the more he limited sex, the more it exacerbated his fears the next time he got into bed. When sex happened rarely, there was more performance pressure on him. He increased his own fear that Karen might have an affair. He couldn’t see he was also increasing her motivation to have one. He tortured himself by picturing her having sex with someone else, her
wanting
other men, and berated himself for his sexual inadequacies. This increased his fears
that Karen secretly wished to be “free.” Unfortunately, but predictably, this made Julian less interested in sex, in part, because he had the security that Karen still wanted him.
Foreplay is a negotiation for the level of intimacy, eroticism, and meaning in the sex that follows. Poorly differentiated folks get their feelings hurt in the process of foreplay and lose desire.
Julian used his monopoly every time they had (and didn’t have) sex. His preferences and shortcomings dominated who did what to whom, and the order and meaning of what happened.
Julian’s rapid orgasms controlled their sexual behavior. He wouldn’t let Karen touch his penis during foreplay because this made him climax more quickly. They didn’t have oral sex because Julian wasn’t comfortable going down on Karen. Karen had encouraged him to do it, but Julian always demurred. She didn’t push this, given her fear that Julian would start restricting sex again if she pissed him off. Karen didn’t do oral sex for Julian because this made him climax quicker, too. Julian said if sex was going to be brief, he wanted to be inside Karen when it happened.
Not only did Julian control how they had sex, he also controlled the level of intimacy and eroticism between them. He controlled the meaning of the sex they were having and the messages they sent each other. This went on through the mind-mapping of subtle behavioral cues partners always communicate.
It happens in something as seemingly simple as a kiss. Julian didn’t like to smooch. Karen got her feelings hurt and backed off when he turned his head. Karen got the message loud and clear that Julian didn’t want to do it. They had sex in the dark because Julian “thought it was more romantic.” Actually, Julian was uncomfortable really being intimate. He liked the dark because he felt less exposed. Several times Karen suggested they watch a porno flick, and Julian said he was interested. But he never acted upon her suggestion, so she surmised he was uncomfortable with it. Karen constantly monitored Julian for how forward she could be about sex without intimidating or angering him.
For his part, Julian constantly gauged Karen’s reactions. He knew from past experience Karen wanted more kissing, but he also knew she wouldn’t push this any further than she pushed for sex. All he had to do was hesitate, whether during kissing or having sex, and Karen would get the hint and back off. Mind-mapping was the medium of Julian and Karen’s negotiations for intimacy, eroticism, and meaning during foreplay.
This sufficed most of the time, but eventually she put a different strategy in play: Julian overestimated how captive Karen was by her own promise of fidelity. He was shocked when she had her affair because he had read her incorrectly.
Partly this happened because Julian didn’t appreciate how angry Karen was and how controlled she felt. Partly he misjudged her because Karen went to great lengths to keep Julian from reading her mind. Karen didn’t want Julian accurately mapping her because he’d discover she was having an affair.
In the last several years, Karen developed low desire for sex with Julian. But while they were basically celibate, Karen had lots of desire for sex. She struggled with a strong desire to have an affair. She watched porn on the Internet, joined in sexually tinged chats, and eventually started a physical affair with someone she met online.
Affairs are pseudo-differentiation—masquerading as standing on your own two feet, when in fact you’re not. Karen’s affair had an element of monopoly-busting, and a refusal to submit to tyranny. But both were nothing more than dressed-up defiance. Thumbing your nose at your partner does not strengthen your Four Points of Balance.
Defiance is not autonomy because the locus of control still resides with your partner rather than yourself. The best way to “resolve tyranny” is by getting a better grip on yourself. Autonomy and independence involve taking care of yourself—not doing things that diminish you. Karen could have broken Julian’s monopoly by taking an open stand of no longer tolerating the status quo, and not allowing her promise of monogamy and fidelity to be misused to perpetuate it. Emancipating herself didn’t have
to involve violating her own beliefs. “All” she had to do was deal with Julian directly, risk his wrath, and handle his attempts to punish her.
Monogamy isn’t easy for anyone. It’s particularly difficult for poorly differentiated people. It’s hard to resist the inflated self and dopamine rush of an extramarital affair. That same reflected sense of self makes desire problems virtually certain in your marriage. This deadly combination creates lots of affairs in folks lacking in the Four Points of Balance.
I’m not a critic of monogamy. I’m providing the argument for it. Monogamy is poorly understood and poorly used. If you were Mother Nature, and you wanted to encourage human psychological development, you’d be pretty clever if you made the things humans do to avoid growth the very things that make them grow. Monogamy is where poorly differentiated people run for safety (read: avoid growing).
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But you need to develop stronger Four Points of Balance, or your marriage—or your sexual relationship within it—doesn’t survive.
There are other ways monogamy functions like a gear in the people-growing machinery of marriage. Monogamy involves an implicit sense of ownership or property rights in your partner, and a basic sense of territoriality regarding potential interlopers. When your Four Points of Balance are weak, this takes on greater importance. Monogamy gratifies your reflected sense of self (at least initially) when someone turns to the world and declares, “Stay back! He’s
mine
!” It makes you feel valued and chosen. You feel the same during courtship when your partner looks you in the eye and says, “Your mine!” Either expression of possessiveness is often rewarded with sex, but only if your partner maps your mind and reads that you mean it.
Expressing ownership of your partner once you’re married introduces you to celibacy. Being taken for granted violates your dignity, autonomy, and reflected sense of self. It makes you angry, rebellious, and withholding. There’s nothing like your partner thinking she owns your genitals to kill
your ardor. Everyone has this reaction. If your Four Points of Balance are lacking, it triggers the War of Independence.
All this over things that exist only in your partner’s head! Possessiveness, ownership, and entitlement. You can’t feel taken for granted if you can’t map your partner’s mind. Just another way mind-mapping shapes your monogamy.
Innumerable iterations of
If you love me you will
and
If you love me you won’t ask
enshrine our expectations that our partner should do whatever it takes to makes us happy. It inflates your reflected sense of self when she does something for you that she doesn’t really want to do, or gives up something she really wants. In truth, you probably expect her to sacrifice
her
self to support
your
self. This interaction drives poorly differentiated people’s relationships. We take this for granted as human nature, but it’s what makes human sexual desire incredibly unique.
“Communal genitals” is my term for partners acting as though they have rights to their partner’s body for sexual purposes. It describes how people feel and act. Communal genitals sounds like,
If I’m not going to have access to other partners, your genitals half belong to me. Keep them clean and ready to go, and make them available when I want them
.
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Some religions promote the notion of a marital “sexual debt,” which doesn’t help.
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When sexual obligations surface, so does low desire. At first, it sounds simple that sex is something you expect in marriage, but it creates trouble if your Four Points of Balance are weak. The standard monogamy/fidelity agreement creates low desire because it violates someone’s wobbly reflected sense of self.