First session

This might have a chance after all.

Despite my best efforts, I was a nervous wreck by the time we got to Philly.  Even fortified by a delicious lunch and a Bloody Mary, I felt an overwhelming sense of danger and doom. The tiny waiting room seemed not to have enough air to sustain life, or at least my hyperventilation.  I tried to pass it off as allergies, but I was having trouble breathing and swallowing.  Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.  I considered fleeing, vomiting, and faking my own death.  Fortunately, I think it went completely unnoticed. 

The office, in contrast to the oppressive waiting room, was large and spacious, with views of the city.  I relaxed a bit, grabbed some tissues and hunkered down on the couch.  I was determined not to be the one to drive the conversation, and for the most part, I didn't.  When she asked what other factors she needed to know about, I had to speak up about the role of alcohol in the relationship.  I wasn't sure it even had an impact (on anyone but me, that is), but when it came time to assign homework (which she calls homeplay), it came up.

The homeplay is this:  4 hours over the course of the week devoted to non-intercourse sexual play.  It's scheduled, accountable time each day.  She also wants him to get a recheck of testosterone and prolactin levels.

And then the bombshell:  she oh-so-casually told him not to drink this week.  OMFG!  And just as casually, he agreed. 

It sounds like the makings of a very nice week...and so far, it is.  Almost three days in, and we're still on track.  I'm taking things one day at a time and enjoying the assignment.

Next week is a double session:  one hour for each of us, individually.  The following week is a joint session where we lay out a strategy. 

At least this time we have a strategy.