Lighting Up How I Stopped Smoking, Drinking, And Everything Else I Loved In Life Except Sex

Chapter 1 October 1996 "Aaron wants you to know that he misses you and can't live without you," Dr. Winters said, looking right in my eyes and smiling. I turned to Aaron, my cute, curly-haired, six-foot-four ex-boyfriend, whom I'd broken up with six weeks before. His face was expressionless. It felt awkward to be sitting so close to him on the couch without touching. For three years I'd begged him to accompany me to my therapist, Dr. Goode. He refused, insisting that emotional insight would destroy his career as a TV comedy writer. "He's very happy you could make it here today," Dr. Winters continued. "Who are you?" I asked. "Cyrano de Bergerac?" The scene was even more bizarre because, as I'd told Aaron, our exhausting, turbulent, three-year bicoastal affair was seriously over. He agreed, but begged me to try one couples' session with his new psychoanalyst, just for closure. I agreed, just for closure, but made it very clear that I'd already fallen, head over spiky black high heels, for another man. "Aaron said you were dating someone new," Dr. Winters said. I nodded, feeling claustrophobic. In the past I had only bared my soul to female shrinks. The male head doctors I'd met were old Jewish guys in gray tweeds who smoked pipes; I could never talk about oral sex with anybody who resembled my grandfather. I admit I was intrigued when Aaron warned me, just before we'd walked in, that Dr. Winters was young, unconventional, and wildly provocative. With an office two blocks away from my West Village one-bedroom, I imagined angry art therapy, or complicated, cryptic Jungian dream analysis. I wasn't expecting a short-haired, clean-cut, smiley WASP, let alone one who looked like the actor Pierce Brosnan. I pondered how Aaron, the least emotionally adventurous man I'd ever met, had stumbled onto the James Bond of psychotherapy. "So, when are you getting rid of the other guy?" asked Winters, still smiling. "The other guy, Joshua, is deeply in love with me," I said. "What a pleasure to be with a man who has room for a woman in his life." "You can't be serious," Winters said. "I'm always serious," said I. No wonder Aaron called him young. He looked forty-five; they were probably the same age. Though he was seated, Winters appeared shorter, about six feet tall. He had a slighter build than Aaron, who was the nerdy Jewish bear type I usually went for. Aaron and I were dressed the same, in black jeans, sweaters, and leather jackets, rebels without a cause. Dr. Winters dressed like an adult: navy wool slacks, white shirt, classy red and blue tie, beige blazer. Was it cashmere? His outfit was calculated, colorless enough to project anything onto. He could have been a lawyer, book editor, international spy. "Why can't I be serious about Joshua?" "Because you're so happy to be sitting here next to Aaron," Dr. Winters said. He was trying to brainwash me. "I'm just here out of morbid fascination," I said, looking around his small, dusty office. There was only room enough for the couch, leather chair, French country desk, and Oriental rug. Too many miniature embroidered pillows for a middle-aged straight guy. One sensed Dr. Winters was married with kids, a model citizen. But I imagined a grisly past filled with illicit sex and rage and turmoil. "Just morbid fascination?" He looked hurt. "Aaron makes it sound like love." Who did he think he was sweet-talkinga dumShapiro, Susan is the author of 'Lighting Up How I Stopped Smoking, Drinking, And Everything Else I Loved In Life Except Sex', published 2004 under ISBN 9780385338332 and ISBN 0385338333.