“As usual, he got frustrated and asked what the fuck was the matter with me.”
“OK.” I nod. “What did you say?”
“I told him to just finish off as it wasn’t going to happen.
And then, well he just finished off and rolled over.”
“I see.” I stay silent to let her finish, but she remains silent. “What happened then?”
“I told him I was coming to you.”
“Had you not told him before?”
“No, I hadn’t.”
“And what did he say?”
“He told me that no expensive doctor could make me receptive in bed, that I’m a cold fish and that he’s never been with a woman who is so unresponsive.”
“What do you think of that?” I ask.
“He’s right,” she sighs.
“I don’t believe that,” I assert. “You may be unresponsive to him at the moment, but it’s not physical, it’s totally emotional. Bethany, I treat both men and woman who suffer from anorgasmia and they are in loving relationships with a person they can trust.” She nods as she listens. “Have you thought about what we talked about last visit?”
“Yes,” she says. “It’s not going to be possible.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because he doesn’t know I haven’t orgasmed in three years.”
I cross my arms. “What do you mean?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“I’ve been faking it all along.”
I nod. This is common. “Do you think you should come clean?” I give her a small empathetic smile.
“No, he would be devastated.”
I nod. “So, it’s OK if you’re devastated, just not him.”
“I know how this looks,” she whispers.
“How does this look, Beth?” I urge.
“That I am a martyr.”
I smile. “Is that what you think?” I ask her softly.
“Do you?” she asks.
“No, I don’t think you’re a martyr. Would it matter to you if I did?”
She nods her head.
“It shouldn’t matter what anyone thinks, Beth, only you.”
“I care what you think.” She smiles. “You’re the only person who knows about this.”