Relationship Chemistry

As her breathing and heart rate steadied, she began to reflect on her actions. Her motivation was not her own pleasure but a desire to humiliate James. Paul was merely the tool used in this game because James detested him. It was as if she had turned into a demon, who needed to humiliate as a means of self-assurance. Using aggressive sexuality and outright emotional sadism as a cover-up of the self-hatred and feeling of worthlessness existing deep within her since she was young.

She called a taxi to take her home too, wanting the humiliation to continue.

As she walked up the driveway, she saw light in the study. She called out, "You seemed quite transfixed by what you watched. Did you enjoy it as much as I did?". Which was a lie. Not getting an answer she headed for the bedroom.

James sat in the study staring at the computer. On most days he would have loaded some porn and wanked the frustration out of his mind. Not today. He had heard what Sara had said, but he was too numb to address her.

She had cheated on him and humiliated him by fucking Paul right in front of him. The obvious thing to do would be to separate immediately and file for divorce the next day.

That could happen on Monday. Tonight, he was still trying to understand why this had happened to him. He knew he annoyed people at work and they avoided him. And Sara hated him too. Even though, he had no intention of hurting anyone's feelings. Actually, he had become more and more timid and cautionary. It did not help.

He wanted to understand what he did to trigger Saras desire to humiliate him? Or was she like that? What did she get out of it if he felt downcast? Which sick need was she fulfilling? If she was weary of his failures, she could have divorced him. But she did not.

What is going on here he asked himself yet another time.

It was so unfair. Just small things, small slips, sometimes impulsive reactions and he would be humiliated, degraded, punished heavily.

Today he was just a few minutes late and she brought the ultimate humiliation upon him tonight.

Witnessing Sara tonight, he had not been turned on but deeply ashamed. He had just stayed because it took him time to comprehend his shame. Now admitting how ashamed he was, he became aware he had felt this shame already for a very long time. Shame at not simply writing down his master thesis even though he had it in his head. Shame at missing deadlines even if there was enough time. Shame at not providing the finishing touches for his papers. Shame on not finishing work tonight to get ready in time. Of course, there were always reasons he could blame it on. Tonight, he began to see them as what they were: excuses. He was responsible, not them. He had to get out of this by himself. Stop hoping for consolation and understanding from Sara.

These things causing him shame had common themes. He typed them into his browser: "shame not finishing, always late, simple things" into his browser and surveyed the list of results. One word caught his attention as it appeared often. ADHD. Wasn't that a disorder of children in primary school?

Apparently not according to the articles. Much less visible in adults it rendered them unable to focus and finish jobs because their minds always reeled.

He watched videos of adults with ADHD. It was like looking into a mirror. He took tests. His score was very high at 80%. He learned about hyperfocus. About the gravitation towards extreme endurance sport to clear the reeling mind.

But there were treatments. The infamous Ritalin. He knew immediately that he wanted to try it. It required a diagnosis from a psychiatrist, then he could get it. Right away he booked online to have a test.

In between he jumped up to take a shower, the soap removing the sweat of this horrible day. A shave at 3am, then quietly scanning his wardrobe. He would have to change a lot of his clothes to return to a neat look.

Then back to research until the sun was up. When he heard Sara stirring, his thoughts returned to the previous evening. He had been humiliated because he had asked for it. That helped him to face her.

He stated as detached and plain as he was able to: "I was not turned on yesterday. I was close to killing you. Do this again and you will be dead. Get a divorce and you can fuck Paul. "

She looked at him long, trying to assess if his threat was true. The coldness of his statement convinced her that it was not an empty threat.

"James, we must admit to ourselves that our marriage has failed. What I did was gross."

"You may be right. But if I had not been late and had not been late 100 times before this would not have happened. I must solve my problems first. I might have found out where they come from. Your act was so gross and there was so much hate and anger that I cannot believe it was all me. This was older and came from deeper within you. I could see that while I watched yesterday. I know if I leave, I will take my problems with me just to repeat. So, I will stay until I come to grips with myself. Then I will see. If you believe it is all me, get a divorce if you don't, get to work to clear your emotions."

Then he went to the guest room to sleep.

To Sara it was almost a relief to see he asserted himself for the first time in ages. Her demon who needed a target for his frustration and found none got distressed.

They had been in similar situations like this. Never as bad and never as extreme, but they were practiced in finding a truce.

The next 2 weeks were hell for James. In the office he avoided Paul at all costs. In seclusion, he tried the arsenal of new tips and strategies to increase his abilities to stay in focus and execute. They helped somewhat yet cost him so much energy that he almost fell asleep in the early afternoon.

The only improvement was that he was able to stay calm when Sara was harsh every so often. He now knew that he was struggling, but he had always given all he had to her and to his job. If that was not enough, then just too bad. But no divorce was filed by her.

Then he got his diagnosis confirming what he already knew and allowing him to pick up the medicine the same day.

He took it the next morning. It was amazing, almost instantly his mind quieted. He got his work done and some more. Completing his project on time and looking good. He was elated, since he now had a glimpse of what being normal meant.

The next morning he checked the list of upcoming projects to find a new one. There was one project that should not have been in this list, as it had been delivered a while ago. Apparently, the customer had been unsatisfied and forced them to redo it. It had been Pauls. To work on this one, was the proper test if he got more traction.

He worked a lot and was late. It was so much fun to move in a straight line, when earlier all his focus was spent to stay focussed.

Sara had become her old self. Trying to find ways to put him down and still finding a few. Some weeks ago, he would have been triggered to argue and defend himself or feel defeated. Now he had found a new mantra to react to these challenges. "Yes, maybe you are right, not optimal. But you can tell me this calmly and without aggression." It was so simple but it worked.

Normal for most people, an elation for him, happened when he delivered Paul's project on time, including some of the smart solutions that made him particularly happy.

He bought himself a bottle of champagne and sat in the living room when Sara came home. He poured her a glass and handed it to her. "What is it for?" She was in an irritable mood watching him for clues that she could attack. "I handed in another project today." She tried her frequent trick to unnerve him "So what? Isn't that your job and you always fail at it?". "Not this time. It was dear Paul who had failed it. The client returned it because it was a crappy cover-up of unusable concepts. And yes, I have found a few brilliant solutions. They make me happy. I will earn a decent bonus for it." She wasn't giving up yet. "So, you think you can get the better of him? He is a level above you now and he has a successful track record.", for the first time really looking at him since quite a while, as he answered "Yes maybe you are right, but there is no need for any aggression. I don't buy that alpha-beta male crap. Science confirmed that not even wolf-packs where the idea comes from are structured like that. I believe it is about each individual flourishing in their personal way. If you prefer his alpha boasting, get the divorce and you can be with him. But I fear I heard the rumor that he has some new eye candy for his Vette." As she continued to look at him, she could not help but notice that he seemed to flourish again. Relaxed, new clothes, fashionable shoes, well shaved, fresh haircut. Apparently, something had happened with him that she had not noticed. She retreated upstairs. In the bedroom, still sharing a double bed, but with an invisible border neither crossed. She took a look at his wardrobe. All new stuff. It saddened her, because shopping for clothes together with him had been something she had enjoyed. The demon in the shadows of her soul, cringed. It might find even less opportunities to steam off his anger.

But the surprises for her did not end. She found herself continuously verbally clawing at him, but his stoicism just caused her to lose her edge. Instead, she began to lose her temper without cause, her aggressiveness changing into fragility and neediness.

When one more of her tempers, which became more like tantrums, had once more failed to anger him, he stood silently fixing her with his eyes. She was still angry: "What is it? Why are you staring at me?"

He still held her gaze. "I am trying to figure you out."

"If it is about me, then why don't you just ask me? I can tell you anything about me!"

"I am not sure if you are really able to give me the answer. It would mean to answer it for yourself. And I doubt you are ready for that."

"Don't be smug with me. Just ask!"

"Sara, do you consider yourself a lovable person?"

She looked at him aghast. Started to speak. Stopped. Her face turned into a knot. Stood, while her gaze dropped and became introspection. Then she turned and ran upstairs, throwing herself on the bed. He could hear her weeping. After it had subsided a little he followed her.

"May I come in?"

"Yes, please."

He sat next to her, just holding her hand.

"James?"

"Yes, darling."

"Please help me."

"At what?"

"To be a lovable person."

"You are a lovable person. You have always been. The only time you were not, was when something in your head told you otherwise. Don't believe the demon in your head."

"How do you know about it?"

"It is my metaphor for the other you. I think it is there to shield you from something, maybe traumatic experiences."

"Please hold me tight. And forgive me, please"

They slept in a warm embrace. His trained muscles steadied her.

The next day she was home early again and went upstairs to change when she noticed a small pill box on his night stand. She went over to look at it. It was a medicine she had not heard of, Lisdexamfetamindimesilat, wtf was that?

She googled it and her view of him turned upside down. This was the reason she felt neglected by him and why he was so itchy. She was so relieved, realizing he had not been neglecting her to hurt or because he hated her. His struggles were with himself. She kept reading until he arrived home and came to bed too. It felt natural to shift towards him, across the invisible border to touch his body. He returned her touch. Within a few moments they were embracing, kissing passionately. Careful he pulled at her nightdress, finding her suddenly hesitant and inhibited, unsure whether she still knew this man. But the familiarity came back to her and the intimacy.

One afternoon a few weeks later, she was home before James as was now the rule because he worked longer. She stood in the kitchen overlooking the street, as Paul's Corvette came down the street, slowing down as it approached their driveway. What was it doing here? She was terrified, when it turned towards their house and pulled into the driveway. She had no desire to see Paul again. Whenever she thought back at the sex with him, he was not an identifiable person, just a tool. Only James had mattered. If Paul would be here, when James came home, she really could not tell what would happen. James' cold statement, that he was ready to kill, still rang true to her. For quite a while the car just stood there, the person inside busying himself.

She watched terrified, as the car door opened. But then it was James stepping out. Looking like his new neat self, the muscle car suited him well.

When he came in, she still stood frozen. All she could stammer was, "What happened to the Prius?". Nonchalantly he informed her, "I sold it. And I found this one at a used car dealer. It was quite a bargain. Apparently, the owner needed money, because he was searching for a new job and wanted to move away." He waved another bottle of champagne. "Paul is no more. Several more of his projects failed because his proposals proved to be shoehorned and came back to us. But I don't complain, each one allowed me to earn a bonus." She answered, "Paul is not relevant. He never was. My frustration at failing to seduce you, was just too high. And then you were late again that evening."

He: "You might have noticed some changes in me. Better time management is hopefully also part of it."

She: "We have to celebrate! Pour the champagne." After a zip of the champagne, she went upstairs to get something.

Returning she knelt at his feet and held out her collar towards him and bowed her head.

"James, please collar me. Not just for a night or some play, but forever."

"Sara, thank you! Does this mean your demon surrenders?"

"Yes, when I was wearing that collar, I always felt happy, because I felt to be taken care off. That is the feeling I have been missing and that the demon shielded, but it also kept it alive. I believe if I wear it always, the demon can retire."

He bent down, kissed her and put the collar around her neck.

"Come on, let's go and try out our Vette!"

And off they drove into the sunset. But would a Corvette be able to stoke her hunger for grandezza?