He lights some incense, asks me to sit in front of him with my legs crossed, and then settles into the same position. Previously severe, he now seems like a kind wise man, who is trying to help me.
“If married people, for whatever reason, decide to look for another partner, this does not necessarily mean that the couple’s relationship is not doing well. Nor do I believe that sex is the primary motive. It has more to do with boredom, with a lack of passion for life, with a shortage of challenges. It’s a combination of factors.”
And why does this happen?
“Because, ever since we’ve moved away from God, we live a fragmented existence. We try to find oneness, but we don’t know the way back; thus, we are in a state of constant dissatisfaction. Society prohibits and creates laws, but this does not solve the problem.”
I feel lighter, as if I’ve already acquired a different outlook. I can see it in his eyes: he knows what he’s saying because he’s already been through it.
“I met a man who was impotent when he was with his lover. Yet he loved being by her side, and she also felt good next to him.”
I can’t control myself. I ask if this man is him.
“Yes. My wife left me because of it. Which is no reason for such a drastic decision.”
And how did you react?
“I could have summoned spiritual assistance, but I would have paid for this in my next life. But I needed to understand why she had acted as she did. In order to resist the temptation to bring her back using magic, I started to study the subject.”
Grudgingly, the Cuban man takes on a professorial air.
“Researchers from the University of Texas in Austin tried to answer the question so many people pose: Why do men cheat more than women when they know that this behavior is self-destructive and will cause the people they love to suffer? The conclusion was that men and women have exactly the same desire to cheat as their partner. It just happens that women have more self-control.”
He looks at his watch. I ask that he please continue—perhaps he is glad to open up his soul.
“Brief encounters without any emotional involvement on the part of the man, and with the sole aim of satisfying sexual urges, enable the preservation and proliferation of the species. Intelligent women should not blame men for this. They try to resist, but they are biologically inclined to do it. Am I being too technical?”
No.
“Have you noticed how human beings are more frightened by spiders and snakes than by automobiles despite the fact that deaths from traffic accidents are much more frequent? This occurs because our minds are still living in caveman times, when snakes and spiders were lethal. The same thing happens with a man’s need to have multiple women. In those times he went hunting, and nature taught him that preservation of the species is a priority; you must get as many women pregnant as possible.”
And didn’t the women also think about preserving the species?
“Of course they did. But while man’s commitment to the species lasts, at most, eleven minutes, for the woman, each child means at least nine months of pregnancy. Not to mention having to take care of the offspring, feed it, and protect it from danger like spiders and snakes. So your instincts were developed differently. Affection and self-control became more important.”
He is talking about himself. He is trying to justify what he did. I look around at those Indian maps, the crystals, the incense. Deep down we’re all the same. We make the same mistakes and walk around with the same unanswered questions.
The Cuban man looks at his watch again and says our time is up. Another client will be arriving, and he tries to keep his patients from crossing paths in the waiting room. He gets up and walks me to the door.
“I don’t want to be rude, but please, don’t look me up again. I already told you everything I had to say.”
IT’S IN the Bible:
It happened, late one afternoon, when David arose from his couch and was walking on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; and the woman was very beautiful. And David sent and inquired about the woman.
And one said, “Is not this Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?” So David sent messengers and took her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. Then she returned to her house. And the woman conceived, and she sent and told David, “I am pregnant.”
Then David ordered that Uriah, a warrior faithful to him, be sent to the battlefront on a dangerous mission. He was killed and Bathsheba went to live with the king in his palace.
David—the great example, the idol for generations, the fearless warrior—not only committed adultery, he also ordered the murder of his rival, betraying his loyalty and goodwill.
I don’t need biblical justification for adultery or murder. But I remember this story from my school days—the same school where Jacob and I kissed in the spring.
Those kisses had to wait many years to be repeated, and when it finally happened, it was exactly as I hadn’t imagined. It seemed sordid, selfish, sinister. But I loved it anyway and wanted it to happen again, as soon as possible.
Jacob and I meet four times in two weeks. The nervousness gradually disappears. We have both normal and unconventional intercourse. I’m still not able to live out my fantasy of tying him up and making him kiss me down below until I can’t bear the pleasure, but I’ll get there.
LITTLE by little, Marianne loses her importance. Yesterday, I was with her husband again, and that shows just how insignificant she is in all this. I no longer want Mme K?nig to find out or even think of divorce, because this way I can have the pleasure of a lover without having to give up everything I’ve accomplished with hard work and self-control: my children, my husband, my job, and this house.
What will I do with the cocaine I’ve hidden, the cocaine that could be found at any moment? I spent a lot of money on it. I can’t try to resell it; I would be one step away from the Vandoeuvres prison. I vowed to never use it again. I could give it as a gift to the people I know who like it, but my reputation could be affected, or, worse, they might ask if I can get them more.
Achieving my dream of getting Jacob in bed took me to great heights and then brought me back down to reality. I discovered that although I thought it was love, what I am feeling is merely a crush, destined to end at any moment. And I’m not the least bit concerned with maintaining it: I already got the adventure, the pleasure of the transgression, the new sexual experiences, the joy. All without feeling a drop of remorse. I am giving myself the present that I deserve after behaving for so many years.
I am at peace. At least I was until today.
After so many days of sleeping well, I feel like the dragon has again emerged from the abyss from where it had been exiled.
AM I the problem or is it the coming of Christmas? This is the time of year that depresses me the most—and I’m not referring to a hormonal disorder or the absence of certain chemicals in the body. I am glad that things aren’t as over-the-top in Geneva as they are in other countries. I spent the holidays in New York once. Everywhere there were lights, tinsel, carolers, decorated windows, reindeer, bells, fake snowflakes, trees with ornaments in every size and color, smiles glued on everyone’s faces … And me, absolutely sure that I was a freak and the only one to feel completely alien. Although I’ve never taken LSD, I imagine you would need a triple dose of it to see all those colors.