by Marty Klein
He says he’s not interested in how you feel about his porn-watching
Therefore, attempting to address these aggravating or hurtful situations by demanding he stop watching porn will be of little value. This is another way that both today’s PornPanic and the Porn Addiction movement actually undermine relationships: by assuming that all behavior involving pornography is primarily about pornography, and by assuming that people who behave poorly are under the influence of pornography, rather than the more powerful explanation that they’re making choices that correspond to their needs and values, their internal strengths and weaknesses.
COMPETING WITH PORN STARS
Porn or no porn, every man and woman has to figure out how to feel OK with themselves when they don’t look as good as others, have as much money as others, or have children as well-behaved as others. This is the fundamental existential task of all people who want to enjoy life, and porn didn’t invent it.
How do you get through the day, comparing your income to Mark Zuckerberg’s, your home to Martha Stewart’s, your influence to Oprah Winfrey’s, your golf game to Lydia Ko’s, and your body to, well, any 25-year-old movie star’s? This isn’t a female problem or a male problem, it’s a human problem.
If your partner watches porn, that’s just one more opportunity to either compare yourself unfavorably, or to work on that darn inescapable, internal existential project.
Do keep in mind that men who watch porn are not relating to the actresses—they’re relating to the characters the actresses play. Porn consumers don’t care any more about the people who make porn than sports fans care about the athletes who play sports. We cheer, we groan, we wager, we play in fantasy leagues (you understand we’re talking about sports, not porn, right?), we swear off a certain player or team.
And at the end of the day, which of us cares about LeBron James or Missy Franklin or Tiger Woods? We consume them the same way we consume porn stars. In particular, we consume their bodies and performances. When they can’t provide these to our satisfaction anymore, we discard them. The same is true of musicians, stage actors, and all other performers. We don’t care how cellists might be sacrificing their wrists, or stage actors their families. As long as Yo-Yo Ma and Hilary Swank can perform for us, we consume them. When they can’t, we drop them. Paradoxically, the most beloved performers are the least human to us.
I’m not saying this is good (or bad). It’s just that porn actresses aren’t the only people we objectify, valuing them only for their performance and body, rather than for their humanity. If watching porn encourages objectification of performers and performances we value, so does watching sports. And the next time you treat the supermarket checker as an extension of the scanning machine rather than as a person whose kid might be sick or whose husband might be unemployed, ask yourself how different that is from watching a porn star (who just may be making more money than the supermarket checker).
Now some people do mind their partner watching Tom Brady or LeBron James too enthusiastically. He gets jealous when she says, “Wow, look at LeBron’s muscles,” or “Wow, that Tom Brady sure has guts.” She gets jealous when he says, “That Serena has cleavage to die for.” Yes, some people feel threatened when their partner appreciates a public figure’s body—which is another way of saying, “I compare myself and don’t like what I see.” Don’t blame your partner when you put yourself in that position.
The ultimate issue in many couples in conflict about pornography is the decline or disappearance of their once-enjoyable sex life. This is extremely hard for couples to discuss, given the shame, grief, confusion, rejection, failure, and hopelessness that people often feel.
As a therapist, I can tell you that sitting through that conversation, and even encouraging people to reveal more of their heartache, is very, very painful. It’s particularly poignant because there’s no guarantee that acknowledging the depth of the problem and the depth of the pain will lead to a satisfying solution. What we do know is that without conversations like that, meaningful change will almost certainly not occur. And emotional separation, perhaps with quiet resentment, will continue. While it’s common to say that porn consumers are selfish and rejecting of their partners, a lot of porn use is actually a desperate attempt to stay in a sexually unfulfilling couple.
If couples could talk about sex honestly and directly, most antagonistic conversations about pornography would just go away. Some couples would have more sex. Others wouldn’t, but conflict about porn would no longer be all that interesting.
SO AM I TAKING HIS SIDE?
When I approach couples’ conflicts about porn in this way, people sometimes ask this question. That in itself is interesting—that a balanced approach, an approach that sees each partner’s pain as equally valid, that sees the couple as the unit that needs healing rather than seeing one individual who needs to be fixed (while the other needs healing), can be seen as biased.
As a rule, marriage counselors are trained to see couples in pain, rather than seeing one victim and one victimizer (the exception is domestic violence). And yet when I propose to use that very same proven approach when there’s conflict about porn, I am sometimes accused of “taking his side.” Similarly, when I don’t see the porn as the problem, but rather see that there’s a couple who doesn’t have an existing agreement about something, has an unsatisfying sex life, and is blaming each other for their distress, I’m often accused of “taking his side”—as if he and the porn are co-conspirators, and she’s left out.
If I were to say that it were all her fault—the power-tripping, the demands, the inflexibility, the refusal to look at things from his point of view—I’d be accused of taking his side, and that would be accurate. But the same people who would criticize me blaming her for everything somehow expect that I will blame it all on him.
So am I taking his side? No. I’m taking the side of the relationship—a grownup relationship, where each person’s interests are valid and must be considered. Her pain about his porn—as serious as it is—is not more important than his pain about feeling judged, humiliated, distanced, and told what he can and cannot do. At the same time, his desire for a private life free of her criticism is not more important than her pain about feeling excluded, or disrespected, or disenfranchised.
In a situation of high conflict, all feelings are not equally reasonable, but all strong feelings must be acknowledged, accepted, and sympathized with before any productive analysis or helpful decisions can be made.
The only way most couples are going to get out of the porn-is-our-problem paradigm is as a mutually compassionate team, not by deciding who is to blame. Getting both to sign on to that approach is step one. It’s often the biggest step of all.
Case A
RACHEL & JACKSON: PORN AS INFIDELITY (OR, YOU THOUGHT IT = YOU DID IT)
She was 100 percent sure he was being unfaithful, and it was driving her crazy.
And that was driving him crazy, so he came to see me.
What was Rachel so upset about? “I watch porn,” said her husband Jackson. And? “She hates it, says it makes her feel distant from me, says it proves I’m insecure and that I don’t love her, don’t love anyone but myself.”
So what did Jackson want from me? “Tell me how to get her to calm down.” This is a pretty common request in therapy: Tell me how to change my partner so my life will be better. Or tell me how to get my partner off my back. Or tell me how to convince my partner that I’m OK. (And as a bonus, help me convince my partner they’re wrong.)
In that sense, Jackson’s request was immediately familiar, even without the details. “Your situation sounds difficult,” I said. “But I can’t do remote-control therapy. We can spend most of our time talking about you. Or we can do couples therapy. But we can’t operate on Rachel from here if she’s across town.”
He seemed to appreciate that. So we talked about him, at least for the present session. This bright, good-looking, professionally successful man was sad, lonely, em
barrassed, and feeling hopeless. What a contrast these two sides of him were. The contrast centered on the ongoing conflict with his wife, whom he loved.
As Jackson unfolded his story, it included a few stops at a local strip club last year (Rachel knew and resented), a few massages with “happy endings” two years ago (Rachel did not know), and fantasies about other women (“Rachel would kill me if she knew”). “Just for the fantasy?” I asked. “Yes, just for the fantasy,” he said. “She’s very jealous, and has very strict ideas about monogamy.”
Some people still hold the ancient belief that “if you thought it, you did it.”1 Even the sexually austere St. Augustine thanked God for not making him responsible for the content of his dreams; Rachel, apparently, was somewhat less understanding than that. And substantially less wise about the nature of human imagination. Attempting to control our partner’s fantasies is one of the more damaging things anyone can do to an intimate relationship.
So Jackson periodically looked at porn (and masturbated, of course), and Rachel hated it. She demanded he stop. Like most men, he agreed. And like most men, he kept looking anyway. He soon got “caught” again. I hate that expression, an adult getting “caught” looking at porn—as if he were a disobedient child, discovered by an angry parent.
Promising he wouldn’t watch porn again was a serious mistake. Almost everyone making that promise breaks it, and when they do, they lose the moral equivalence so central in a power struggle. It’s one thing for her to say I want you to stop, and for him to say I don’t want to stop. At that moment, these people can be equal, with equally legitimate desires. But when he says he’ll stop and he doesn’t, the issue is no longer about porn. Now it’s about him breaking a promise. And he’s culpable, even if he felt coerced into promising, and no matter how silly he thinks her feelings are.
“But it was a stupid thing for her to ask. I just said yes to stop the arguing,” Jackson complained, wanting sympathy. “Don’t you think her demand was ridiculous and controlling?”
“Again, Jackson, rather than talk about her request, let’s talk about your response,” I reminded him. “You promised something you didn’t deliver, right? Doesn’t that make you untrustworthy? And if you made a promise you didn’t even intend to keep, what should we call that?” Although I asked in a friendly way, the questions still required answers. “You and Rachel can quarrel about whether you are going to watch porn. But it’s an entirely different argument when you make a promise, break it, and she resents it.”
“I suppose that helps her feel like I’m being unfaithful,” he said with a frown. It was a good insight.
I continued asking about Jackson’s porn-watching.
Was he comfortable with the content of what he watched? He was. Was he comfortable with the fact that he wanted to watch porn regularly, despite his wife’s stated opposition? He was. “It’s none of her business,” he said. “You sound resentful,” I observed. “Yes, of course I am,” he replied. “I’m an adult and yet I still have to justify a little relaxation. It’s ridiculous.”
And how was their sexual relationship—did he enjoy it?
“Not so much,” he said, looking away. “Sex used to be pretty good, and we did it most weekends, sometimes more. But you know how things change over time.…”
I wanted to know more about these changes, but our time was about up. “Jackson,” I said, “we need to decide if you want individual counseling or couples counseling.” “Both,” he laughed. “I think that’s a great idea,” I said, “And although I do both, I generally don’t do both with the same people. So pick one, and I’ll give you a referral for the other.”
“Rachel will appreciate you,” he said without hesitation. “And although I’d like you as my individual counselor, you can help me find someone good just for myself, right?” I recommended an excellent local colleague. I then gave Jackson my availability for several upcoming weeks, and told him to invite Rachel to call me if she’d agree to come in with him. I also encouraged him to share with his wife as much about our session as he wished. The following day Rachel called, and we quickly made an appointment for two weeks hence.
* * *
And so two weeks later I welcomed Rachel into the office with Jackson. I gave her a chance to tell me about herself, asking about her background, friends, and previous career. They had, in fact, discussed Jackson’s recent session, so she was pretty much up to speed. I asked her if we could just dive in and resume where he’d left off, and she agreed.
“Jackson mentioned last week that as the kids grew up, you two starting quarrelling more frequently. Is that how you remember it?” “Yes,” she sighed. “We seemed to be growing apart. We periodically fought about the kids—I think I was stricter—or money—he was very concerned about our finances, and often questioned my spending.”
At about that time, Jackson was getting increasing recognition at his job (his company makes some kind of computer chip—that’s about as technical as I get), and was being given more and more responsibility. He said, “With suppliers in India and customers in the U.K., my workday often included Skype meetings at home, before and after my time in the office. Rachel wasn’t very sympathetic.”
“But this was just when our two children were really active in high school, needing both of us,” she added angrily. “How many of their performances or games did you go to? When did you ever talk with them about their futures?” “Doc, you see what I mean? No sympathy from her.” “Dr. Klein, do you see what I mean? No awareness,” Rachel responded.
“I imagine this dynamic affected everything around the house—even your sex life,” I said quietly. They each studied their shoes. Neither replied.
Long ago, they had agreed that Rachel would be a stay-at-home mom, but as the kids got older, she had less to do and began to mourn their inevitable separation from her. She poured herself into homemaking on their behalf, while trying to “create memories” she imagined they’d treasure after leaving for college. Pretty soon she was driving her teenage kids crazy, wanting validation for her sacrifices and careful planning they hadn’t requested. Rachel and Jackson couldn’t sympathize with each other’s difficulties; they really were looking in very different directions.
And that included different directions sexually. It was easy for her to feel left out, to criticize him, and to imagine all his sexual opportunities: sex workers, affairs, business dinners. She started prying, sometimes becoming aggressive and unreasonable. He felt unfairly accused—“Doc, I didn’t have the energy to have an affair, I was working 16-hour days”—and thought she was creating a lot of drama about the family’s natural evolution. He started withdrawing from her emotionally, which naturally led to him withdrawing sexually. She did the same; although she craved his attention, her growing mistrust led her to push him away. Ironically, they were cooperatively creating emotional separation without realizing it.
Enter porn.
“Of course, I’d been using it for years,” said Jackson. “Yes, and look where it’s gotten us,” sniped Rachel. I jumped in and interrupted before they could escalate further.
“Wait,” I said. “Let’s talk about this differently, OK?” They agreed, but it was just a temporary ceasefire, not a respectful understanding.
“Rachel, what exactly is the problem with Jackson looking at porn? I’m not asking you to justify your feelings, I just want to understand them.”
And boy, did she have feelings. A real man doesn’t watch porn. He was bringing “filth” into their house. He masturbated because he was afraid of impotence with an actual woman (her). Him watching porn proved he had no respect for her. Him watching porn had made him lose interest in her. Him watching porn had made her lose interest in him.
“Do you see how his selfish habit has really damaged our marriage?” she asked.
Actually, I didn’t see it that way at all. But I could see that she was terribly distraught. Which I validated—“Rachel, you’re obviously very upset about Jackson’s porn u
se.” She nodded. “Jackson, I know you love Rachel, so you can be sympathetic when she’s upset, even when you’re what she’s upset about, right?” He found the question confusing, as do most people when I first ask this. So I explained. “It’s critical that people can sympathize with each other’s pain without having to agree with them. Otherwise, as soon as our partner disagrees with us we’d be irrevocably isolated from each other. People could never reconcile about a disagreement, and could never feel cared about during or after a disagreement.” I could see them thinking this over.
“I guess the technical term for this is ‘empathy,’ ” I said matter-of-factly. “I’ll give you a chance to practice this for homework.” They agreed.
“A second thing I want to discuss is the important principle of not solving a problem too soon. You both know that from your professional work, right?” They did. “Rachel, ‘Jackson not watching porn’ is a solution to a problem. But you two lack consensus on the problem that this solution is supposed to solve, so he won’t cooperate with the solution. This leads you to think he doesn’t care about the problem—that is, about you.
“So let’s start with this: Rachel, what exactly is it that Jackson does or doesn’t do regarding sex that upsets you? You never know—we might be able to address your pain about various things without requiring that he stop watching porn.”
They both eyed me warily, as if I were conning them out of something, although they couldn’t figure out exactly what. “If you’re wondering what I’m pulling here, I’ll tell you: You’ve been fighting about the wrong thing, so no matter what solution one of you proposes, the other rejects it and you make zero progress. I want to get you out of that dead end by finding one or more problems you can agree you want to fix. Then you can choose to work as a team to resolve them.” They seemed startled by my directness. But I was staying a step ahead of them, which they liked. So we proceeded.
They found it difficult to talk about themselves without blaming each other. It was pretty standard stuff: he makes me feel insecure; she doesn’t turn me on; you don’t really desire me; you don’t tell me what you’re thinking; and so on. So over and over, I gently interrupted, reframing their complaints as self-disclosures: I feel insecure; I don’t turn myself on with you; I don’t feel desired; I don’t know what you’re thinking, and I’d love to. Little by little we defined the experiences they were having with each other.