Modest Sex

"Psychoanalysis, unfortunately, has scarcely anything to say about beauty...All that seems certain is its derivation from the field of sexual feeling.  The love of beauty seems a perfect example of an impulse inhibited in its aim.  'Beauty' and 'attraction' are originally attributes of the sexual object." - Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents

 

Elena is alone in the garden.  Beneath her feet the white grubs twist and turn in the chemical treatment, curling up against the poison.  She is completing a sketch of their frantic activity in her journal.  Her father wants some kind of a picture of the infestation, and she thinks a drawing will enhance an anecdote.  The gardener is an a*****e, ripping up the grass to provide visual evidence of the parasite.   She is horrified.  Speak to my father, she says, not to me.  He has the power to authorize a restoration of the property.

 

Elena studied, taking brief respites from the dullness of on-line job applications.  Her sister, Anna, noted that the virtual approach to finding work paled before the immediate power of interactive searching.  You had to get out there, she said.  But Elena did not know where "there" was.  The prospect of public networking seemed grim.  She did not have any contacts anymore, not since graduate school.  It seemed easier to return to school for professional training;  that way, she could continue to study legitimately, her favorite thing, while acquiring practical skill.  It was about time.  She wanted freedom from the slavery of uncontrolled days that only unraveled from a lack of structure and routine.  She was productive, but not prosperous.

 

"Look at you/ Reading your book in blue.  You do not like me."  Something Welden argued, from time to time.  Elena put her new first edition copy of Psychotic Conflict and Reality down and glanced up at him on the screen.   He walked out of the room.  Lyrical, serene, she thought his words.  Blue cloth book cover, blue t-shirt, blue jeans.  Elena knows she thinks too hard, too much, but does not know how to stop it.  It is true that sometimes she does not like him much.  The reason is based on his continuous critique of her nature, her style.  She draws the conclusion that he does not like her, so her inclination is to respond in kind.  They never seem to get anywhere. She is not His Girl.  Elena likes to think of the energy she expends in the "thing" between them as an investment.  But this is a deception.   They cannot seem to establish any reliable link.  Elena is curious why this is the case.   She remains detached, thinking that it does not matter.  Or, rather, that since nothing materializes between them, then, literally, it does not matter.

 

At this time in her life, what is important is self-preservation, self-care.  She never learned to provide for herself.  Welden accuses her of relying on  men to provide for her and to support her.  He points out to her, in therapy, that the metaphor of utility is at work in her relations with men, working mutually, both ways.   They were in bed, in conversation, discussing the question of pragmatism and ethics, the conflict between them.  If we view the world of objects as material for use, and bodies are objects, does that mean we should regard others from the perspective of utility?  While it was practical to see the external world as a reality, did it make sense to consider the internal world of the subject as a reality too?  Welden argued that consciousness was a materiality, a creative product of the body.  Elena thought consciousness an illusion of the mind.  Inner life, in her mind, was a kind of random, chaotic reflection of neural activity, nothing more.  As she recalls the exchange, she thinks that the drive to care for the self must be considered primarily from a biological point of view.  There is no point indulging in abstractions about utility when the bottom line is the end of the line;  in other words, survival depends on a certain stark fitness.  Why cloud the issue with other questions, like nurturing, a euphemism for care which now enters her mind, or altruism?  Hopelessly sexed terms.  So she thinks time without men, though she has, historically speaking, had plenty of that kind of time, might be a solution.  Independence, autonomy, terms typically designated as male privileges.  She laughs and thinks perhaps she can father herself instead.

 

Swiftly and deliberately, Elena deletes virtual and wireless contact.  She believes she can resist the ringing land line.  The power Welden exerts comes from out of nowhere except a seemingly harmless violence characteristic of his attitude toward her.  A little shaken, she brews more coffee and continues to smoke.  A job posting for a proof reader earlier that morning comes back into focus to occupy her mind and summon her drive to proceed in the search for work.   She notes that her sense of interior space no longer feels constrained by the unseen forces of Welden's natural desire to destroy her.  She feels a kind of vast inner space, instead of the crushing sense of a loss of freedom and control over her own life.  She is pleased that she will enter psychotherapy as a singularity and stand her ground that her clamor for peace and love as a sort of natural ethics is a worthy therapeutic goal.  She deserves good treatment.

 

Henry has been invited to dinner.  He brings a companion with him, a woman.  The evening is preceded by a phone call from Welden, so Elena spontaneously decides to invite him too, as a kindness.  She has trouble with endings, closure.  In many ways, she has yet to grow up:  She believes that kindness can work a kind of magic on his character, soften his hard heart and soothe his cruel mind.   A dinner party then.  Not that she wants to acknowledge the screen of fantasy that projects the illusion that he is in love with her-- it is more the case that she wants to see if he will flirt with Henry's girl.  A test.

 

The room recedes before the candlelight.  Elena has set the table with imported china and linen.  Henry arrives, introducing Emily as his date, with his arm about her waist.  It is his first encounter with Welden.  He has formed judgments in Welden's favor, given Elena's attachment and regard for Welden's skill as her therapist, but nevertheless harbors negative perceptions about professional ethics and accountability.  Emily is lovely and graceful, one arm draped across Henry's shoulder as she greets Elena and her lover in pleasing tones.  Elena introduces Welden as her friend, which sounds flat, and the others are surprised that she figures her relation to Welden is a secret.  She indicates that the guests be seated at the table.  She is alone in the kitchen.  Welden's voice drifts in as he retells the discussion about ethics, this time underlining the problem of utility when it operates without the structure of benevolence.  Elena is uneasy, agitated by the way he publicizes an intimate moment, though he does not mention that they were in bed at the time.  She feels exposed, vulnerable.  Her mind returns to the social fact that they are friends, reminding her to trust in his sense of confidentiality.  On some level, she is ashamed that she is sleeping with her doctor, her analyst, but her conviction that she is free to conduct her life in terms of a pursuit of happiness allays her concern.  She concludes that she is entitled to her privacy, and feelings of happiness and good faith return.  She does not recognize the way in which her contentment is shrouded in romantic illusion.  She forgets that she forgets.

 

Welden was not in the habit of denying himself anything.  His proprietary air settled any awkwardness.  Henry and Emily were assured of civility and good taste.  The nature of his relation to Elena no longer seemed important as he assumed a position as head of the table.  Comforted and grateful, Elena served demurely.  They ate with relish.  How long have you been dating,? Elena asks casually, though the question of their status as a couple is urgent.  She knows how to behave in a dignified manner, but she is concerned that she appears shady, questionable in her role as Welden's lover.  What do you think of the topic of marriage?  Is it suitable for discussion?  She blurts these questions out, and knows they are inappropriate for an introductory meal of virtual strangers.  I think it is a grand design of nature, says Emily.  Complementarity is fundamental to species survival.  What do you say Henry?  He puts down his glass of wine, pauses, and says, I regard marriage as a corruption of nature.  Permanence in relationships is a fantasy given the temporary and seasonal nature of sexual selection and connection.  I say we follow the pattern of bees and cultivate the nectar of many flowers, not so much for pleasure as for productivity.  Welden laughs heartily and raises his glass in a toast.  Let's call it sexual difference.  Elena smiles at his wit and is pleased to know that they are at odds as a pair.  She understands this streak of ugliness in her character as a way to survive her own loss.  She wants to marry, or, rather, she wants Welden to want to marry her.  It is a game, Elena says.  Much like the way love is cold when it is close, but warm when it is distant.  It is tied to desire, to appetite, not to ideals or ethics.

 

For some time, Elena has suspected that Welden is deliberately shaping her into a prostitute.  His therapeutic method and interpretation effectively classify her failure to meet the milestones of feminine development as a resistance to conventional social order and customary feminine conduct, a refusal to behave within acceptable limits.  Following each session, Elena feels undressed, promiscuous, before male authority.  His tactics disarm her defenses so that she feels both strengthened and vulnerable at the same time.  She disguises the sexual arousal the transference evokes with modest clothes and body language so that he cannot sense the spirit of her pleasure.  Truth is, Elena is paranoid, and imagines that Welden's professional posture is a ruse designed to corrupt her virtue as perversion  or as a fetish:  He claims that she sexualizes her modest dress, provoking a desire in men to undress her.

 

"My partial retreat from the real world contains a repressive withdrawal of energy from a maternal figure, an exotic dancer, who 'peeled' as a way to ward off admirers."

"But Elena, a stripper dances to tease sexual appetite."

 

He doesn't get it, the twisted way that male desire depends on what is hidden from view, the provocative nature of modesty.  Elena replies, "My mother's promiscuous undressing worked against her audience, curtailing pleasure in spectacle and display, but I cannot explain why."  Her retreat from a clear answer signals a blockage of some kind, a refusal to be real.  He chides her:  Invitation as violation, Elena.  It characterizes the nature of your relationship with your mother, her unreliability, and neglect.