One Shoe Over The Fence: How we fixed our failing marriage and learnt to thrive (and I got my shoe back) by Simes Stephen

Author:Simes, Stephen [Simes, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Divorce, Marriage, One shoe, marriage counselling
Publisher: iDevelop Ltd
Published: 2012-06-07T18:30:00+00:00

After 20 years is passion possible?

‘Complaining of sexual boredom is conventional. Nurturing eroticism in the home is an act of open defiance.’

Esther Perel

I was about to walk into the valley of death. The mother of my children was sitting on the couch, dressed pleasantly and smiling gently. I girded my loins, opened my mouth and started to splutter.

‘I asked to have this talk because I’ve been thinking about you and me and the shape of the couch.’

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

‘That didn’t come out right,’ I said, ‘I meant to say that you and I’ve become like this couch.’

‘Would that be stuffed and covered in baby spit?’ enquired the seatee, ‘or perhaps a bit lumpy and in need of more spring, or maybe (mock gasp, shock horror) past its use by date and ready to be tossed?’

I blushed, looked at the ground and shifted my feet. Then I glared at her and collected my thoughts.

‘Grrr, none of those, you’re being bad. What I was trying to say is that we’ve become like this couch. We’re comfy and familiar, wonderful to cuddle into at the end of a long day, and yes,’ I conceded, ‘covered in many kinds of baby gaga.’

I kept going. ‘I love this couch. It is solid and reliable. It’s where I feel best and choose to spend the most time. It knows me and has changed to accommodate my shape. I know it will always be there, which I appreciate.’

I took a deep breath, and without catching her eye continued. ‘However, the couch is also uninspiring, completely lacking in surprise or spontaneity and is not as sharp as it used to be. The colours have faded, the edges have softened and one evening on the couch is very similar to the previous few thousand.’

I was about to continue when she interrupted. ‘Are you saying that you need to go and sit on a chaise longue?’ her voice became steely, ‘maybe a newer, brighter version!’

I seized the moment, ‘Yes, sometimes I do want that, and sometimes a wicker beach settee and other times a big old heavy leather beast, all cracked and in need of a good polish.’ I could see the question in her eyes. I hadn’t stated a preference for old and heavy before.

I stumbled on. ‘With you, I want to have all these different experiences with you. The couch is a metaphor for our relationship.’ I paused and continued quietly, ‘I would never call you lumpy.’

I looked up from the floor and ran straight into the lounger’s most direct of gazes. It was the one she used when she had my number. No question she had understood.

‘Let me get this straight,’ she said, ‘you think just because I make a few flippant comments that I’m bad.’

I had no idea where this was going and didn’t manage to reply.

‘Let me tell you something,’ she continued as she stood up, ‘you are the bad one here. Comparing our relationship to this old thing is not acceptable…and you deserve to be punished.

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