Seven Stages of Lesbian Desire (What’s Truth Got to Do With It?)

April 28th, 2009

Seven Stages of Lesbian Desire ( What’s Truth Got to Do With It?)
by Renate Stendhal

As a young lesbian, I was notoriously afraid of bed death and skeptical about ever being able to escape it. Monogamy to me was a sure-fire condemnation to sexual boredom. My experience with serial monogamy taught me that desire was doomed to die a slow death. My intuition, however, told me otherwise. The notion that passion and intimacy can´t coexist, had the suspicious ring of a man-made myth. I went on to question this famous incompatibility. There had to be a way to reconcile lasting love and hot sex.

Of course, there are periods in human life when monogamy seems too hard a struggle against our hormones, or seems in flagrant contradiction with the mood of a time. Such a time for me was the period of the second wave of feminism. In Paris, where I lived, the political and consciousness raising groups, action committees and assemblies saw a daily stream of new women pouring in– every one of them a potential seductress or object of desire. Entire countries were swept by a woman-identified, woman-loving, lesbian euphoria. The erotic capacities of women seemed limitless: woman with woman, with two, three, a whole collective, a roomful of women. Obviously, in this high tide of sexual celebration, monogamy didn´t stand a chance.

During my promiscuous years, I rarely admitted to myself that something was amiss. My adventures, affairs and experiments were a great sexual education, but they often turned out to be emotionally or intellectually frustrating and bogged down in jealous complications. The sexual excitement was short-loved. Was I still searching for “the right woman” – another myth? I ended up convinced that the forever sexually attractive, interesting and engaging woman of my dreams did not exist.

Therefore, when I seriously fell in love again, I was still suspicious – in spite of my delight. I moved to Berkeley, California, to be with this woman, who was also a writer and feminist, who loved French culture and German poetry. But I was determined not to stay a day longer than my sexual passion would last.

Today, twenty years later, I can say that my early intuition has been confirmed: passion and intimacy do not have to exclude each other. A lot is possible in a relationship if lovers are compatible, share important interests, like each other in a way best friends can like each other, remain attracted to and curious about each other, and, most importantly, are able to risk honesty with each other. I was surprised to realize that truthfulness about feelings and body sensations might be the key to lasting desire. Nobody had ever mentioned this to me, as far as I remember. There is a lot of talk about the value of honesty in any ethical, moral, loving relationship. But who ever thought that honesty could be erotic? That truth could be an aphrodisiac?

When I first fell in love with my American in Paris, Kim, one of our special erotic treats was eating fruit together. I remember the morning after our first love night in Paris. My apartment was composed of three tiny chambres de bonnes, maids rooms, on top of an old building. It overlooked a courtyard with a chestnut tree, then miles of grey slate roofs and brick-colored chimney-pots until the eye bumped against the Eiffel Tower at the horizon. I sneaked out early, while Kim was still asleep, and got fresh croissants and strawberries down the street. When she woke up, I kissed… and fed, and fed and kissed her. I offered her a strawberry I was holding between my lips and teeth, and teased her by not letting it go when she went after it. The game of feeding, fighting, giving in piece by piece, bit by bit, and even chasing after the berry that had already disappeared in her mouth was a particular turn-on to me. It played with the best elements of seduction: offering and withholding, pursuit and evasion, aggression and surrender. The juicy sweetness of ripe fruit and tongue all mixed together was an erotic appetizer promising a feast like no other.

We repeated this game many times afterwards, with cherries, chocolates, and other morsels of food. Every time we played it, we were transported straight back to my little abode with its potted palm tree and a mattress on the floor, light streaming through an almost floor-to-ceiling window, and desire streaming through our surprised, elated bodies discovering each other.

But some time down the road, the game disappeared from our menu. We quite forgot about it – at least I did, only to notice one day that it had gone missing. Now, when I tried to bring it back, together with its fond memories of our first desire, I got nowhere. Kim was not in the mood to play it any more. Something had changed. At first I was troubled, I felt rejected, I was dismayed. It dawned on me that there were other favorite erotic ways of communication that we had abandoned, or perhaps, that had abandoned us over time. I had to admit that my own sexual preferences were not exactly the same as they had been before: I, too, was depriving Kim of erotic treats that she had once particularly cherished and that I wasn´t in the mood for any longer. Were we losing our sexual appetite? Were we getting bored with each other? Was the specter of bed death raising its scary head, once again?

I suppose all couples who have survived the stage of falling in love, recognize the situation. It struck me that both of us had experienced similar “changes of climate” in our previous relationships. As a counseler, I also heard a lot from my clients about these changing erotic moods. This is how I would describe the pattern of desire that typically shows up in a relationship:

Stage One: Falling in Love.

This stage is our major cultural reference point. We have been primed for it from the very beginning with fairytales, princes and princesses falling in love at first sight and, mysteriously, living happily ever after. Innumerable movies show us people falling in love.

We see it so often that we automatically assume that love is – or should look like – falling in love. We do not fully realize that falling in love is not a normal condition. It is like a drug trip, an extreme high. We are in a “state.” The verb falling gives it away: we are swept off our feet, falling out of our usual balance. We can fall all over ourselves (fall to pieces) in this state, make a fool of ourselves, and even fall from grace. We can become obsessed with the object of our desire. Everything we do and everything our adored does, is measured anxiously on the scale of: Am I getting any closer? Is she as attracted to me as I am to her? Or is this going to be just another friendship? We made a date: are we going to get sexual? Who will take the first step? What if the sex is disappointing? Will it ruin the whole thing? In this excited stage of uncertainty, heightened desire and anxiety we don´t eat, don´t sleep, forget to water our plants, skip school, quit our job. One could call it a benign state of insanity.

Stage Two: Honeymoon

The benign state of insanity continues. The sexual force of this stage tears open all our boundaries. Over night, ecstasy, angst, and desire turn us into adventurers, discoverers of unknown continents of body and soul. We make love. We break out of our usual inhibitions. We dance naked in front of the mirror. We are suddenly not afraid to eat as much as we like of any food we crave. We discover we lust for oral sex. We take surprising risks engaging in sexual games we have always only fantasized about. We soar. We are young again. We go to all-night raves, buy a tent, get our first tattoo, exchange our old VW for an SUV. We know the meaning of life – we finally live, fully, and we will never ever stop living and loving in this way, with passion.

Stage Three: Getting Familiar

We do not want to separate. We´ve found out about each other with the fervor of explorers and anthropologists. We find we are compatible enough to build a couple. But we still don´t know each other well. We continue to make discoveries which keep alive a feeling of sexual adventure and emotional expansion. We make life plans. We cross oceans and continents to move together. We develop shared habits, patterns, routines. We bump up against our differences, but are often willing to overlook them, sweep them under the rug, and glory in our ability to be so generous with our bodies and selves. We are in love, busily building our nest.

In this humming post-honeymoon stage of intimacy, Kim and I were not aware that we were doing much more than “playing house,” that we were building the foundation for the house with many rooms that would be our relationship. Many couples, I think, take for granted what they accomplish in terms of team-building, partnership, loving kindness to each other at this early stage. They are not aware that they are gathering resources that might last a lifetime if they continue to be developed. A lot of deep relational work consciously and unconsciously goes on as lovers try to integrate their sexual discoveries and the new risks they have taken. For Kim and me, the sense of closeness led to a certain degree of closing off toward the world, which is what many couples experience. There is a need for protective cocooning or merging where we give up individual space and agency for the sake of our couple-togetherness. The adventure of growing intimacy can obscure the difficulties: the fact that any newly formed couple has to contend with a radical life change, with often scary compromises, and a lot of unknowns and unanswered questions about each other.

When I look back today, I can say that I didn´t realize at this stage that Kim and I were padding ourselves up against great uncertainties with a high-flying, determined vision of our future together.

Stage Four: Differentiation

The “honeymoon phase” is definitely over. We are proud of our achievement of comfort, of couple unity, especially in the company of our friends. But there are moments when we are shocked to discover that we disagree in front of our friends. The picture we presented to the world – and to ourselves – shows cracks. It is suddenly apparent that we are not cut from exactly the same cloth. It also dawns on us that we are different from the way we were when we were freshly in love. We don´t feel generous any more the way we used to and, instead, struggle with competition, envy, jealousy. We draw anxious lines around what is “our turf,” around our boundaries and individual needs. Kim and I, for example, fell into furious fights over feminist ideals that we thought we had agreed on. And underneath those ideological rifts we discovered vastly opposing views on the presence of ex-lovers in our life. This is just one typical example of what couples face at this stage. Our idealization of each other drops away, reminding us of the old proverb, “Familiarity breeds contempt.” Getting intimate seems to have opened a Pandora´s box. We suddenly stand there, naked, shocked about what we see. We fight the realization, and we fight each other. We fight over the gap between the promise of our honeymoon and our new disenchantment, between our expectations and our present reality. For moments, we seem to have fallen out of love completely, and our chances of staying together seem dim. We question the very nature of the relationship. Why did we ever engage with this person who doesn´t resemble any more the one we fell in love with — the woman who seemed to be our ideal lover, “the only one”? A great and sometimes hopeless nostalgia sets in for the ways we were.

Some couples split up over the frequent discord and disenchantment of this phase. They do not realize the nature of what has happened to them, and they do not recognize its potential. Other couples outlast the turmoil because their sex life seems magically heightened by those hot-cold energies of fighting and making up. The distance that a serious fight typically creates in a couple, opens up space for desire to return. I remember from these troubled times how moments of sexual bliss brought back the consolation and memory of oubeginnings and reminded us of our relationship vision. But the moments of passionate anger between us at first seemed overwhelming to me. Coming from a family that hardly ever expressed loud sentiments, I believed anger was intolerable and would doom our relationship – until the day my therapist asked me, in an earnestly curious voice: “What´s wrong with yelling?”

Stage Five: Accommodation and Resignation.

Many couples progress from the pivotal Stage Four to a sneaking sense of caving in to “reality” and making do with less than they had hoped for. This is usually the time when we notice that sexuality has begun to fade away. We are tired of conflict by now, afraid to challenge each other any further, and scared to lose the relationship if we ask for “too much.” Too much typically entails the notion of “too much sex “– and sex of course is the deepest, most intimate, risqué part of our lovers´ commitment. To use my example, I could have quietly renounced the strawberries… and kept a long-lasting, secret grudge. Sex is often also the most conflicted part of the relationship as in our culture, women are raised in numerous ways to be ambivalent about sex. We are raised to think that if we enjoy physical tenderness, sensuous body contact, hugging and cuddling comfort, we may do quite well without all that troublesome sex.

I have known couples who seemed content with this conclusion. Their partnership had enough solid elements to carry on without sex, especially around the advent of menopause. But more typically, the compromise of keeping peace at the sacrifice of sex leads to more turmoil.

Stage Six: Rebellion and Temptation.

At this stage, at least one partner starts to rattle the foundations of this hard-won peace. One partner usuall expresses the sexual frustration of the couple and starts asking for change. In my past relationships, this used to be my inevitable role. If change –more frequent sex, better sex, more romantic sex, etc. – cannot be worked out or is too slow in coming, one partner tends to push the issue and push the big relationship buttons. In my case, that meant giving my partner a few serious warnings and then having an affair. Everyone knows how the atmosphere around a couple heats up under this kind of tension. Nagging criticism, pulling more serious fights, turning more or less openly provocative, flirting with strangers, trying to make one´s partner jealous, secretly or openly acting out by starting an affair, are the classical ways of breaking out of the cage of a sex-starved relationship.

If a couple doesn´t get help at this latest stage of conflict, the most common solution is to call it quits.

Stage Seven: Separation.

One partner has newly fallen in love or both partners are exhausted and heart-broken. They split up so that each of them can set out to begin the whole cycle all over again with someone else.

When I looked back at my earlier unsatisfying relationships, it struck me that each time, some essential truths had not been spoken or had not been heard. These truths always had to do with shame – shame of feeling, shame of needing, shame of telling. Even if we could still be best pals, with the absence of truth some secret resentment would remain and spread under the covers. The feeling of distance, vague loneliness and boredom would eat away at my desire… until there was no sexual appetite left. My relationship would slide down from stage 4 to the unavoidable stage 7 of “Good-bye, baby.”

By now I felt like the “Sherlock Holmes of the lesbian bed death.” If dishonesty was the culprit and if honesty had such an impact, wouldn´t we get the opposite result if we let that embarrassing truth out of the closet?

This is exactly what I found. Telling the truth to a lover who knows what we are risking, and who is taking the same risk herself, reverses the course of events. Being honest in a way that respects both our own and our partner’s feelings, is a skill that lovers can learn in the same the way we can learn (and teach each other) how to touch each other’s bodies. “Telling the truth is an adventure, a loosening of control in order to do something daring,” I say in True Secrets of Lesbian Desire. “This is the first element truth has in common with good sex.”

Sex and truth have a lot in common. Instead of holding back and biting our tongue, with every truth well told and well received, the relief can be refreshing like a great orgasm. Our heart opens, our body opens. We fall in love again. The ominous Stage 4 of our relationship can evolve into a new version of Stage 1 – a version we might call “ripening in love.” In fact, at every stage of our relationship, truth holds a continuous promise … until death ( not bed death) do us part.

“Harvesting Life” about my own experience as a learner and provost of UIL:

February 15th, 2009

Harvesting Life:

When I heard about a Ph.D. program that was not taylored  according to some conventional Western (male-dominated) canon, I pricked up my ears. A program that gives you credits, units, a degree… for reflecting on your life-long learning? A BA, MA or Ph.D. that rewards your conscious awareness of your own path, your personal life choices? A program that wants you to write about your own interests and passions?

In Europe, where I am from, nobody had ever heard of such a thing.

I  have always been a diary writer, in love with self-reflection. But even in my wildest dreams I would not have imagined earning a Ph.D. by writing about my own life experience. Clearly, UIL, a “University without walls,” must have been created with someone like me in mind.

I investigated this place of free, progressive  thought and spiritual service and enlisted for a 4-semester Ph.D. program that could be accomplished in one and a half years. I threw myself into the course work – writing essays. I had written many essays before, as a student, as a journalist, as a feminist commentator, but this was intrinsically different. I was looking back at my life in a way I had never looked before. The perspective opening up for me  now was like a harvest – I was invited to walk through the garden of my life,  to stop at particular trees I had planted, walk down this path (or impasse), gather fruits of insight and bring them home.

In writing the thesis I made use of my learning to open a path into new terrain: I wrote about my work with lesbian couples, about my own 20-year-relationship, and forged a theory (based on experience) about the compatibility of intimacy and sex. My Ph.D. thesis was published as True Secrets of Lesbian Desire: Keeping Sex Alive in Long-Term Relationships (North Atlantic Books), and I can’t deny that I felt proud to see the letters behind my author’s name. The best part, however, is the lasting inspiration I feel from being a student at UIL, talking to my Provost, and deciding to become a Provost myself in order to help others find UIL and grasp this beautiful idea.

I now work with several MA/Ph.D. students and relish the colorful  interconnections between my work as a counselor and writing coach and the tasks of “provosting.” Usually, counseling is not connected to writing; usually writing and editing are not so intensely connected to personal reflections on learning. UIL is  the perfect connector, the  hub of a wheel that ties together different disciplines in a oneness of purpose – integrating what we know from living our life.

As I am guiding students through the steps of their harvest I am surprised and touched by how different their approaches and movements are. While each of them is finding a unique way of thinking and writing about their lives, there is one thing they  share: they still find it hard to believe that they will be officially rewarded with a degree for something that is so natural, so personal, and yields such profound personal satisfaction.

Some Thoughts About My Work

February 15th, 2009

After some twenty years of practice, I am still deeply moved by the continuous mutual learning and growth to be found in the process of listening, questioning, and honest searching. When I look back at my own experience in therapy, I am convinced that the way we relate to our counselor is an interesting reflection of how we relate in general. I am reminded of the moment in the movie Kissing Jessica Stein when Helen wants to know if her new lover Jessica has come out to her therapist.

Helen: What does your therapist think?

Jessica: Oh, I didn’t tell my therapist.

Helen: Why not?

Jessica: It’s personal.

What I like about being a counselor and coach is precisely this potential for a safe, caring, personal connection. I cherish dream work and the subtle ways we translate feelings into words, find and refine our personal goals and truths.
I see myself as a guide, a “way companion,” and mentor, especially for women. I know from my own experience that in the presence of an attuned listener a great deal becomes possible: healing, growth, the unfolding of wings.

Professional Background: M.A. in Clinical Psychology from New College, CA. Completed  MFCC training,  3-year internship at Child Development Center (Children’s Hopsital, Oakland). Private studies with Dr. Otto Will and Dr. Beulah Parker. Ph.D. in spiritual psychology. CTI (Coaches Training Institute) training.  Ordained as minister at AIWP (Association for the Integration of the Whole Person)

AIWP Guidelines for a Spiritual Counseling Practice

February 15th, 2009

Spiritual (pastoral or ministerial) Counseling is a listening art based on empathy, interpersonal collaboration and spiritual recognition. It is non-diagnostic. It does not offer treatment for an illness or pathology, either mental or physical. It seeks for and encourages a relationship to the higher or creative Self, which many people regard as the divine. It remains curious in the face of the unknown. It understands troubles and difficulties as the portal for spiritual growth. It believes that a spiritual perspective may include all aspects of life: family history, trauma, use of substances as escape, self-defeating patterns, thoughts and behaviors, as well as the inevitable losses, separations, and absences that occasion grief and mourning. It recognizes that spiritual authority resides in the client, not in the counselor. It listens for the other’s unique spirituality. It is interested in what the client considers the meaning of life; where this is not known, the counselor helps to seek this meaning.

In Spiritual Counseling the goal is to mutually create an environment within which the unspoken self can emerge.

Writing in My Paris Cafe

February 15th, 2009

I used to wonder, during the many years I spent in Paris, why I could not sit at my desk and gather my thoughts. There was nothing wrong with my desk. My window looked out on the Parisian sky, grey slate roofs and terra cotta chimney pots. A desk with a view. But whenever I started writing, a restlessness forced me down into the streets. My café was across from the Luxembourg Gardens, its big windows an arm´s length away from the huge old sycamores and chestnut trees of the garden. Le tout Paris – everybody, would come strolling through the cast-iron gates cross the street and settle in the café – mothers and kids, tourists, groups of well made-up old ladies, students from the nearby Sorbonne, publishers from their headquarters at St. Germain.

I would choose a table right behind the windows that were open on hot days and feel at the crossroads between nature and culture. France has always prided itself for being the “country of the center,” where the extremes of life are balanced by style, elegance, and raffiné food. Where men have permission to be feminine, and women to be masculine. Where a woman of a certain age is forever attractive to anyone younger than herself. “Paris France,” as Gertrude Stein wrote, “is peaceful and exciting.”

Whenever I return to Paris I am still drawn to this café with the lazy greenery outside and the high-strung pace inside. Waiters in black tailor-made vests and long white aprons flit about like swallows. They serve coffee in white porcelain pitchers, a small one for the espresso, a bigger one for the steamed milk, so that everyone can find the perfect balance of tastes in their cup. I watch the curls of cigarette smoke rise from every table. My thoughts begin to stretch.

I sense the connection to the expatriate writers, artists and thinkers before me, Janet Flanner, Djuna Barnes or Meret Oppenheim, who had their Pernod and their best ideas in a Paris café. I can´t be lonely here, the way I am at my desk. I can banter with the waiter or begin a dialogue of glances with some woman I am curious about. It´s in this very café that I met my life companion, years ago, because this American in Paris had also picked Le Rostand as her writing café whenever she passed through Paris.

I feel the centuries of French café culture – a tradition, an atmosphere, a way of life that has been honed and refined to take care of me – body and mind. In my Paris café I have entered a cultural space. I am in the middle of a thought or just drifting. A noise, a word, a sudden movement enters my mind and subtly shakes it. As in a kaleidoscope another picture appears. An idea. I start writing.

A Leap of Faith

February 15th, 2009

I would never have imagined the way I came to write my first novel. Many years ago, I used to hear a silly little ditty in my head, the kind that Germans call an “ear worm.” My ditty went, “Grasshopper, grasshopper, take me to Italy!” I was fond of it without any reason, perhaps because in eternally gray Paris, everyone always longs to go south. When I moved to Berkeley, the ditty moved right along with me. I remember driving over the San Francisco Bay Bridge one day and singing it out loud to my companion Kim. It suddenly struck us that the “ear worm” had to have a meaning if it was still playing in my head after all that time. What if I truly listened to it? Would it reveal its secret?

Apparently I had hit upon the magical formula: the very moment I took the words to heart and asked them to speak to me, a story came. Over the course of the next year, my novel The Grasshopper’s Secret took shape. The grasshopper playing in my ear had literally taken me on a ride.

Ditties, words, sentences knock around in your head and roll over your tongue all day long. You can become a keen listener and word catcher. Jot them down, follow the lead of your intuition, your Muse, and before you know it you’ve got a page, a chapter, a whole story, a book…

At Play in the Field of Words: My bag of tricks to help you write

February 15th, 2009

As a young aspiring writer, the advice I got from most teachers and writing manuals was to create a disciplined writing practice. The notion of discipline held an aura of serious professionalism that put my un-orderly writing moods to shame. I tried hard to be disciplined . . . only to procrastinate more as if in tacit rebellion against myself. I tried all the tricks, from automatic writing to “morning pages,” from loads of coffee and cigarettes to sitting- and walking-meditations. Fleeing the lonely demands of my desk for the warm hubbub of a café, I sometimes got going  — and then couldn’t stop. A day-and-night obsession would sweep everything else in my life into oblivion until sheer exhaustion and anxiety about the neglected rest of my life dropped me back to square one. Was I a fool to think I could be a writer when I had such difficulty writing?

I have come to believe that for some writers discipline is a panacea, and that other writers have to enter a state of playfulness to succeed. Often what it takes to get writing to happen is to distract the inner judge–to trick her and sneak around her unnoticed. Playfulness is a good way to accomplish this, unless we confound play with random playing around, lacking purpose.
After 20 years of practice I have a bagful of tricks to share with you that can outwit the perfectionist critic who keeps looking over your shoulder with scowls or smirks when you long to write. My assistance aims at bringing you to a place in your writing where discipline AND playfulness are tools in your toolbox and where anything is possible because you are not afraid to make a fool of yourself.