Do You Watch Porn?

We got back to the house after our fourth date when I sat beside him on the couch and decided it was time. Our dates were getting longer and our conversations growing deeper. We had covered initial bases while driving hand-in-hand in his truck, on backroads that were entirely new territory for me, in every sense of the word. Faith. Children. Family. Career. Goals. This was all new territory. My prior relationship did not begin this way. Dating had been led by emotion, and was not built on a foundation of truth or the opportunity to assess an alignment of core values. This new era, would be intentionally different.

And this felt good.

My healing work had prepared me for this level of intentionality in dating, but there was one topic I held with great importance, that remained daunting. Discussing my values for sexual intimacy in a relationship would be incredibly vulnerable. The ability to have this conversation, prior to the escalation of relational emotions and intimacy, would be a critical step in my healing.

I released a soft smile and the deep breath I had taken in, as I told front porch man I wanted to ask him something.

Something that was really important to me.

And I wanted him to answer honestly.

His eyes were soft and receptive. My now hypervigilant state was prepared for anything but soft and receptive. I was anticipating an awkward spin on the last few weeks we had spent together. I entertained having one more dinner or a glass of wine to entice me to stand firmer in this conversation. And then I came full circle; back to reality and acutely reminded that liquid encouragement or another meal over an evening restaurant crowd would be bypassing the progress. I would be delaying the opportunity to stand firm in who I was becoming.

I released the question, leaving time for a pause and regroup to rest in the air between us.

Do you watch porn?

Front porch man also allowed time for a brief pause. He’s an experienced therapist by day, and undeniably in tune with curve ball conversations. But the soft mannerisms and vulnerability he radiated in his reply, were not rehearsed or mechanized. He did not stand up immediately and move about. He did not reflect discomfort. I was not observing a polished and professional version of him. He remained rested and present in the space. Present in the conversation. Four dates, a few weeks of getting to know each other, and my body knew, it was just him. Despite the self doubt and anxiety that I carried to this conversation, I now sensed the regulation in my breathing. I noticed my body, while returning to resting baseline.

And this was good.

His reply was simple and clear. There was no fumbling around with words or the tone in which he spoke them; there were no elaborate stories, explanations, or justifications. He was refreshingly confident in his honesty, as he shared that he had watched porn. It had not been routinely or habitually. It had been quite some time. And I anticipated this reply. I did not, however, expect his continuation. He went on to ask for my perspective on the question. A present man, with kind eyes and a genuine interest for my perspective in a conversation, was still new territory.

Clearly stating my perspective of porn, and my values for sexual intimacy in a relationship, would prove harder than initiating the conversation.

I told him that I had been objectified as a wife, and as a sexual partner, for 14 years.

I told him I was not valued as a partner, with unique intimate needs and desires.

I told him I had never experienced truth in intimacy.

I told him my attempts as an intimate partner were up against artificial worlds, without my knowledge or consent.

I told him that I had experienced significant sexual rejection and betrayal.

I told him I desired authentic intimacy with a partner.

I told him it was important to me to disclose my boundaries and share my perspective for sexual intimacy now.

I told him if I were to be in a committed relationship with a man who engages with porn, or has sexual relations outside the committed relationship, the relationship would be over.

I do not remember the exact words he shared in response, but I do remember feeling understood. I do remember feeling seen.

I do remember experiencing this man freely offering his own electronic devices for me to look something up or make a phone call; my healing eyes in disbelief at the shared transparency, while quickly gazing over apps and to see if it was in airplane mode.

I do remember this man consistently leaving his cell phone out and facing up when he leaves a room.

I do remember making the connection, of consistent actions speaking louder than any words could have ever spoken.

I do remember this man showing up for any trigger or difficult conversation that I have ever wanted to have since, in the moment I want to have it. Because he values me and my truth. All of my truth.

I do believe it was on this day, in this conversation, that the shift from front porch man to my partner evolved.

I do believe that a relationship that holds space for vulnerable conversations, led by truth, is attainable and worthy.

I do believe I can always return to the progress. Again I will speak, without delay, as the partner I am becoming.