The Doctor Is In

by Ruth K. Westheimer

  The answer is to focus on the present. Pay attention to the people around you. Ask questions and listen to the answers. Tell everyone what happened to you during the day and make it as amusing as possible. Accentuate the positive, try to bring everyone’s spirits up; by doing that, you’ll find your own elevated. And by keeping your brain occupied in the present, it will force toward the back any unpleasant emotions that your past might evoke.

  It’s easier to manage this if you have the right audience. Some people seem always to be cranky and tired, and I don’t have the time or space in my life for such types. Sadly, sometimes this pattern develops in old age. One reason that young people often keep a safe distance from older people is that many past a certain age have lost their zest for life. All they seem to do is complain about their aches and pains, how expensive everything is, and that their kids haven’t called. That’s not to say that old age doesn’t bring with it much to complain about; but entering a particular age bracket shouldn’t mean that a cloud of gloom has to permanently descend over you. However, even if you are with a lot of older adults, you can change the atmosphere if you put enough energy into it.

  Here is a prime example. Every so often I go on a cruise ship for a few days. I don’t go on the whole cruise. I jump on the boat at some port, stay a few days, give some lectures, and then I’m off the boat and flying to wherever I want to go in that part of the world. It’s the free travel that draws me to these offers, not the part where you sit in a deck chair only to get up to hit the dining room. Yes, I do eat while on board the ship so in a sense I’m singing for my supper, but really I’m talking for my ticket.

  My only duty is to give a lecture or two. If I wanted, I could sit in my cabin the rest of the time and the cruise line would be happy with me. But I wouldn’t be. I enjoy meeting new people, so I roam around the ship, and when someone says “Dr. Ruth!” I start talking to them. And yes, many of them are retired, though the very fact that they’re on a cruise instead of sitting at home staring at each other means they have the potential for joie de vivre—and may even be actively seeking it. If I run into some people who are complaining nonstop, well, that’s why I always make sure that I get a cabin with a terrace so that if I feel the need to get away and just read by myself for a while, I have someplace to go.

  I enjoy hearing about what people do when they’re not on that cruise ship. One reason is my natural curiosity; to me it’s also a bit like going treasure hunting. If you speak to enough people on a cruise ship, at a charity fund-raiser, at an opening-night gala, or sitting next to you in first class on an airplane, you’re bound to meet a few people who have the wherewithal to help you in some way. In my case, maybe they have a lot of money that they can contribute to one of my favorite charities. Or else they may be involved in a business that complements a project I’m working on. So if there’s even a whiff of money in the air, I never waste an opportunity to see if I can make a useful connection.

  But if I’m looking to get something a little extra from going on these cruises, I also offer something a little extra back. On any cruise I’m on, I make a point of giving a special lecture just for the crew. This is not asked of me; it’s something that I arrange with the captain once I’m on board. It’s usually done rather late at night, when most of the passengers are in bed and the crew has some free time. Since this is such a rare occurrence for the crew, they really enjoy themselves, and that festive atmosphere in turn gives me so much enjoyment. It’s not that the passengers aren’t there to have fun—but sometimes you have to pull it out of them. People who are always taking cruises can become a little blasé. But the crew goes wild when they hear me talking about sex with the captain at my side (usually a little red in the face), and that makes my spirits soar.

  I was once invited on the Love Boat. It was a special anniversary and the actor who played the captain on the television show, Gavin MacLeod, was also on board. All the passengers were gathered on the deck, and we both spoke to them. When it was my turn, I gave them my usual type of homework.

  “When we’re done here, I want you all to go back to your cabins and try a new position.”

  The crowd roared, but then the captain had to interrupt: “Hold on, if you all start rocking the boat at the same time, the boat’s going to sink.”

  “OK,” I said, “so we’ll do one deck at a time. Let’s start in the middle with Deck Three!”

  Did anyone actually try a new position? Who knows! People did later report to me that they had a good time, either in words, winks, or smiles. My little talk gave them permission to have sex, and that’s what mattered. Not that they went on a cruise to be celibate; but if a couple is having sex the same way over and over again at home, there’s a good chance they’ll have the same type of sex on board a ship. However, if they’re going to their cabin in the middle of the afternoon with homework from Dr. Ruth, that might give them just the push they need to try something a little different—and so share in some of my joie de vivre.

  Another way of avoiding the trap of being surrounded by miserable people is to make sure that you cultivate good friends who know how to lift your mood, or at least don’t fight you when you try to lift theirs. I have one friend, Dr. David Best, who is several decades younger than me, but more important than his age is that he shares the same philosophy of making the most out of life. For example, he makes sure to attend every Olympics. It’s not your usual hobby, and it sure has taken him to some unusual places, but it always gives him something to look forward to, even four years down the road.

  In addition to building on his perfect attendance record at the Olympics, David’s also a dog lover. He has a Jack Russell terrier that he named Elvis who is with him almost all the time, including at the office. Now, lots of people love their dogs, but David can go to extremes. For example, when Elvis was whatever age equals thirteen in dog years, David threw him a “bark mitzvah” at a Jewish restaurant in lower Manhattan. When I got the invitation, I was a bit taken aback because this whole concept is a little sacrilegious, though I know David isn’t the first one to do it. But David’s a good friend, and he of course wanted my presence there. This was one of those invitations that couldn’t be turned down.

  There were at least a hundred of us crowded into the top-floor dining room, stuffing ourselves with a variety of Jewish delicacies like pastrami and potato latkes. Elvis was greeting everybody, as was his birth mother, whom David had invited down from upstate New York. (I’m glad no one from the Department of Health showed up, or the guest of honor and his mom would have had to be escorted out.) David is always putting together funny films, most of which feature Elvis, so of course there was a video to watch of Elvis making a trip to Jerusalem to prepare for his big day. And then there was the ceremony itself. No rabbi—but Elvis was escorted in by several robotic dogs bearing sparklers. The entire evening was totally over the top, but I got into the spirit of it. I’d brought doggie chew toys in the shape of Jewish items like a dreidel, and though a part of me would cringe every once in a while as I watched my religion (and David’s) get trampled on, I also had a great time, especially dancing to the Jewish music.

  Adapting a positive attitude is a vital part of my joie de vivre philosophy. If you’re going to show up at an event, make the most of it. That might mean diving in to everything that’s going on, or it might be finding that one interesting person and maneuvering him or her into a corner for some good conversation. As long as you take away something from being there, then all is not lost and you can look back at the evening as having been a good one. So don’t just go with the flow. Instead, pour some of your energy into wherever you are so that the outcome is a positive one.

  One day David called and said we had to get together; he had something serious to discuss. He was having a hard time making a decision, and he wanted my advice. Of course, it had to do with Elvis. You might think that if he could decide to do a bark mitzvah without consulting me, he didn’t need my advice for anything else Elvis-rel
ated. But this time my doctor friend was definitely indecisive.

  “There’s going to be a reality television series that features owners and their dogs. The producers saw the video I made of the bark mitzvah on YouTube, and they’ve asked me and Elvis to be contestants.”

  “So what’s the problem?” I asked, picturing Elvis on national TV becoming more famous than me (and not liking the idea!).

  “It’s being filmed in California, and if Elvis and I don’t get voted off right away, we could be out there for weeks—and I have a business to run.” Though David is a medical doctor, he gave up practicing medicine years ago in order to pursue a career in medical marketing.

  “How much can you win?” was the question that popped into my mind.

  “A hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Then go. First of all, if you didn’t go, you’d always regret it. And if you stay till the end, you might win a hundred thousand dollars. And either way, you and Elvis get to be on national TV. And if you win, for helping you decide, I want my ten percent!”

  I would have given my share to charity, but as it turned out, Elvis is not a very disciplined pet; he and David were quickly out of the running. However, David then milked Elvis’s temporary fame for all it was worth, and he became a mini-celebrity here in New York. That’s an example of joie de vivre.

  I know that David would have gone without my advice. What he wanted was my permission to leave his business for potentially quite some time. I’m used to that, because it happens to me often. People ask me questions, but they don’t really want an answer. They want me to give my blessing to something that might be a little sketchy, like having a threesome. If they knew me better, they’d know that I’m going to tell them to keep their pants on—but I let them ask because if I can keep even some of these people from taking risks with their marriage, I’ll have done a good job.

  Truly, joie de vivre is about embracing the best ways to enjoy life. Let me hit you with another French word, blasé. Blasé leads to the opposite of joie de vivre. Instead of being amazed, you are always bored. Every year during the holidays, I go to Fifth Avenue to admire the displays in the department store windows and stare up at the tree at Rockefeller Center with wonder. If I can get an invitation, I even go to the tree-lighting ceremony no matter how cold it may be. I also make a point of going to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade every year. Because I’m Dr. Ruth, more often than not I get to sit in the reviewing stand. And no matter how many times I’ve gone, I always look forward to it. These aren’t exclusive events reserved for the rich and famous; these sights and sounds are available to anyone. But to enjoy them you have to have almost a childlike vision. You have to see them as if you are seeing them for the first time in order to feel the excitement they can offer. If you go and complain about the cold and say to yourself, “What’s the big deal?”—if you’re going to be blasé—then your life is going to be boring.

  A common question I get is: “Dr. Ruth, how do I keep boredom from creeping into our sex life?” The type of answer people expect from me is, “Turn to page so and so of the Kama-sutra,” or “Cover yourselves in whipped cream.” I’m all for adding variety to one’s sex life, but that in and of itself will not cure sexual boredom because the main cause isn’t having sex in a repetitive manner but rather boredom with the entire relationship. If, when you look across at your partner while having breakfast, you say to yourself “Boring,” then you won’t be any less bored if you’re naked on the floor in the Tominagi position.

  The real answer to that question is to work hard at kicking boredom out of every aspect of the relationship. So if one or both of you are always blasé, always belittling whatever it is you’re doing rather than finding ways to share the excitement in it, then your relationship is pretty much doomed unless something changes. The best advice I can give you is to figure out how you can go through life with your eyes and mouth wide open with excitement. And don’t worry—it’s OK if you drool a bit!

  CHAPTER II

  Always Move Forward

  Because I’m only four foot seven, I’m naturally drawn to the concept that those of us who make any contributions to society only do so by standing on the shoulders of giants. For me, among the giants are those who first began to research human sexual functioning, such as Alfred Kinsey, Masters and Johnson, and Helen Singer Kaplan, who trained me. But my upward climb toward becoming a sex therapist started a lot more modestly, and rather than giants, I had to stand on a wobbly precipice of my own creation, two dark mahogany dining room chairs that I put one on top of the other and then proceeded to scale.

  I was ten years old at the time, living in Frankfurt, Germany. My life revolved around my parents, Julius and Irma Siegel, and my paternal grandmother, Selma, whose home we lived in. I didn’t know much about sex, but I’d picked up enough information from whispered comments, body language, and even some strange noises I’d hear at night to make me curious. While most of my parents’ books were neatly arranged on a couple of bookshelves in the living room, there was one that my parents kept secreted away from me in a locked cabinet on a shelf on top of a closet. If I’m short now, I was even shorter then—but I knew where the key was . . . and on an afternoon when I was left alone for a while, I decided to play Eve and take a bite out of that apple.

  I put together my climbing contraption, risked life and limb to clamber up to the top of the closet, and retrieved the tome. It was titled Ideal Marriage; I later learned that it was written by a man named Van de Velde and was the classic “marriage manual” of the period. I skipped the parts that were of no interest to me—such as the art of conversation—and zeroed in on the chapter about sex, which stood out because of the drawings of various positions. Now at least I could picture what was going on, though at that age it didn’t really mean all that much to me except that like all forbidden fruit, I knew it was something I wanted to learn more about. However, I didn’t get to spend much time educating myself because I heard my parents at the door. I quickly returned the book to its rightful place, thinking I would have another opportunity to look at it more closely. Because of the Holocaust, I never got the chance to see that book again, nor did I get “the talk” from my parents. So, as it turned out, when it came to sex, those few stolen moments with that book had to do as my educational foundation. At least, until I learned more firsthand.

  Of course, the Nazis curtailed my education in many more ways than just keeping me in the dark about sex. The Swiss Jews who ran the school where I wound up didn’t consider German refugees worthy of a real education. They seemed to be under the impression that in exchange for providing a roof over our heads and three meals a day, we had to perform as the dutiful caretakers of the Swiss Jewish children in that boarding school. That’s why instead of a high school diploma I have a degree in Swiss housekeeping, which I proudly display at the bottom of a closet. My dreams of becoming a medical doctor evaporated in the fumes of the cleaning fluids that I used daily to clean the school’s toilets.

  I did manage to get some education during the six years I spent in Heiden, but only by being resourceful. The refugee boys attended actual school classes, as back in those days men weren’t considered good housemaid material. Since we German refugees stuck together, and I particularly stuck to one boy nicknamed Putz, I was able to borrow his school textbooks. I didn’t always understand what I was reading—particularly in math—but I was determined not to let the education I normally would have been given during these years slip entirely away. Just before curfew, Putz would hand over a textbook or two that I’d take with me to bed to pore over using a flashlight.

  During the periods when I was madly in love with Putz, this system worked. However, there were times when Putz got on my nerves. For example, I once wrote in my diary that he refused to part his hair to the side as I requested—so as far as I was concerned, Putz and I were kaput. But whatever the status of our relationship, I still managed to pick up enough material to keep me from being a complete
ignoramus.

  One of my secrets to getting the most from life is that I naturally forget bad things that happen to me. That’s not to say I don’t hold grudges. However, if I’ve forgotten why I should be holding that grudge, it slips through my fingers, along with all the bad vibrations that come with anything negative. This forgetfulness when it comes to negative incidents isn’t something that’s happened to me in old age, so don’t go thinking it’s senility (though I’m no stranger to “senior moments”). I’ve always been like that, which is probably why I’ve been able to attend the Frankfurt Book Fair so many times. No, I haven’t forgotten what the Nazis did. But if I were to completely cut myself off from Germany, I wouldn’t be getting back at Hitler. He didn’t want me to grow up or even survive in Germany. He committed suicide; meanwhile, I’m living life to the fullest, even from time to time in the city from which I had to flee. Granted, I wouldn’t buy a German-made car because I don’t want to be reminded of what happened every time I climb into it. But while I had to steel myself the first few times I went to Germany, I taught myself to move on. You can’t experience joie de vivre if you’re carrying around a huge lump of bitterness.