‘But most of all,’ he continued, ‘I miss our sex life. That year when you had your “list” and you were so open to new things and we . . .’
I saw his face tinge pink as he remembered that year. I felt myself blush too. That was the year I created my sexual bucket list and he volunteered to help me out. The year I finally told my ex-boyfriend Alex to get the fuck out of my life. That was the year we fell in love. God, that year not only changed our lives but created a brand new one.
He cleared his throat. ‘I guess what I’m saying is, I miss that time. I know we have Molly and I love her to death but I want to feel likeusagain. I want to feel as wanted as I did back then.’
‘Wanted? I come on to you all the time!’ I exclaimed, feeling more than a little defensive. I moved away towards the arm of the couch. ‘You’re never in the mood . . . well, there was that time at New Year . . . but usually you’re tired or busy or—’
‘We’re not here to assign blame, Phoebe,’ Pam interrupts. ‘Oliver’s just expressing how he feels.’
I retreated back to my side of the couch, fuming that she’d taken his side over mine. I am so not ready to be a grown up.
She put down her little notebook. ‘Do you still love each other?’
‘Yes!’ we replied in unison. No hesitation, no thought required. Just a very firm, definitive ‘yes’. I felt a warm tingle wash over me as Oliver squeezed my hand. All I could think was –he still loves me. I will never get tired of hearing that.
Pam saw my face and laughed. ‘Then that’s a very,verygood starting point. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like you’re both willing to put the work in, to reconnect not only physically but emotionally too. So, if you’re both ready, I have some ideas that I think might help you.’
Friday February 3rd
First step for next week – individually, think of three songs which describe your relationship right now.
Molly is in bed and Oliver is glued to some Silk Road documentary so I’ve hidden myself away in the bedroom to work on Pam’s music idea. Essentially it’s a mixtape. A fucking mixtape. What are we? Fourteen? I remember making a mixtape for my high school boyfriend Chris Dolan, spending hours choosing a playlist that I hoped would accurately convey my teenage feelings of love and lust (neither of which I was well-versed in), but I made sure he knew I wanted to both shag him and marry him, possibly at the same time. He, in turn, handed me a tape which accurately conveyed his feelings . . . for Weezer and Oasis. What a fucking knob.
Anyway, yesterday – after the music assignment, we worked through Pam’s plan: ‘Relight My Fire’. Seriously, she named the process after a Take That song and now I can’t get it out of my head. From what I understand, it’s a series of different exercises that will help us reconnect as a couple. She hasn’t told us what they are though – I presume so we don’t start writing it off before we’ve even begun.
*
I’m looking through my Spotify tracks but it’s harder than I anticipated. God, I listen to some amount of shite. Anyway, so far the contenders are:
•‘Romance is Dead’ by Paloma Faith – Could work! Quirky, shows I still care.
•‘Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now’ by The Smiths.No. Behave.
•‘Need You Tonight’ by INXS – Corny but true.
•‘I Touch Myself’ by The Divinyls - Maybe notentirelytrue at the moment but I need to ensure he knows that he still turns me on.
•‘Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole’ by Martha Wainwright.Hmm . . . maybe not.
I have until Thursday to finalise it. Ugh, I swear if Oliver hands me an entire fucking Radiohead album, I’ll scream.
Monday February 6th
Oliver dropped Molly at the childminder this morning, which meant I wasn’t in a massive rush. If I don’t have appointments, there’s no need to bring my car, so today I had the pleasure of standing on the underground from the West End to the city centre, trying desperately not to smell the female armpit that was directly in front of my face for the entire journey. It’s still bloody Baltic outside though – really looking forward to the three days of sunshine we’re expecting in June.
Work was pretty uneventful; Brian was off sick and Kelly moaned every time she had to put a booking through in his name. She’s not big on team spirit; I’m pretty sure she’d prefer everyone starve to death rather than be paid for having the audacity to be ill.
There was a new email from Lucy waiting the moment I logged in.
From:Lucy Jacobs
To:Phoebe Henderson
Subject:So??
How did your couple’s session go? Are you both on sex meds now? Do you have to feed each other oysters and do sensual massage once a week?
From:Phoebe Henderson
