An Intimate Evening with Esther Perel
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What you're about to hear is a fantasy sequence in place of this week's session. Close your eyes, if you're in a place where you can do that, and feel free to play along. As always on Where Should We Begin, names and some identifiable characteristics have been removed, but their voices and their stories are real.

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Now,

You have been invited to an intimate evening. You walk in, scan the room for familiar faces, but don't immediately recognize anyone. You find an open seat on the couch. The woman next to you turns and says, Do I know you? I think we met at a dinner about a year or so ago. But we didn't really get to meet, so I'd love to meet you. Want to sit next to me? That voice. How does it make you feel? At home?

On the edge of your seat? Both? You know why we're here, right? Because I created a game. A game of stories. And this is gonna be game night. Did you know? The other people in the room, as if on cue, take a seat, forming a small circle around you. Astaire picks up a blue box off the table, the kind you might expect some delicate Belgian chocolates to come out of. This one is elegantly stacked with playing cards.

Astaire picks one from the deck and begins. The last promise I broke was, "Ah!

The last promise I broke is every day, every day I wake up and I think I'm going to go do a certain amount of exercise or I'm going to eat in a certain way or I'm going to sleep X amount of hours. They all have to do with a certain kind of discipline of self-care. And I break those promises every day. I say to myself,

I'm not going to, whatever, let's say, eat this thing. And then literally I'm standing in front of the fridge, I'm eating this thing, and I have a way of just dissociating from a moment and thinking that I'm not doing the thing that I said I wasn't going to do. And then a minute later, I say, shit, I broke that promise again. After she finishes her story, it's clear it's your turn to share. Are you ready? Do you know what you want to say? Acer begins again.

This time with a different question. When I ask myself the question, I've never shared the whole story about the time. You know, there are a few stories in my life that I recount, but I often feel like there is a bit of a tweak that I make about these stories. And I know it because it's the way I kind of laugh a little bit

while I'm talking about things that are anything but funny.

And so sometimes it goes directly to some of the experiences that I would have at home, you know, where I just felt that there was such a deep sense of grief that sat in the middle. But we were so encouraged to always just charge at life and to engage with our erotic energy and our sense of aliveness that sometimes

Anytime I wasn't instantly happy, smiling, jumping, you know, I would be asked, what's wrong? What's happening? You know, and I think I got the message that it wasn't okay to be sad or to not be jumpy. And the story I never shared out loud is how when I would get sad,

I just would get very angry at myself for being sad because I thought I don't really have a right to be sad or down or melancholic or mopey or low. And so it would become this complete bundle, you know, this kind of mess between what I'm feeling, what I think I should feel, what I feel I have a right to feel, what I don't have a right to feel. And that story actually defined me for quite many decades.

happily, it is no longer so central for me. So when you think about a story that you have never shared the whole story, when I say I've never shared the whole story about the time, what would you say? What's your story? With her eyes, she lets you know you can have a pass on this card, but your turn will come. In the meantime, the person to your right starts in on their story.

I've never shared a story about my growing up with a sister who is bipolar and a brother who was abusive. And it's a hard story to share. I never shared the whole story about the time I...

did what I needed to do to get out of being in active military service in the Israeli army as a paratrooper. Partially because if I tell the full story, I might face court-martial. Probably not anymore. I'm not sure about that. I never told the full story. It's painful and it's complicated. You ready to play? I have a good one for you. Actually, I think I have two great ones for you.

I've been a poor friend too. And the way I think about some of these questions is I literally let my mind wander and see where it stops, like a roulette. And then it just stopped on one friend who I think I've been a poor friend to because it is a

couple of friends and they are splitting off. And I realize in this instance that it's very difficult to stay a friend to both people, even though I have been. And so I have been more in touch or only in touch with one of them. And I think that that means I have not been a good friend to the other one. Just, I don't even have to say I think, I know.

And of course, as always is the case, the longer you wait, the more complicated it becomes. But I am going to reach out. So this is a beautiful question. I've been a poor friend too. I have plenty of stories where I have been a poor friend too. But I told you just one. What's yours? I have been a bad friend to two people. One is...

a collection of people, actually. There have been a few friends that have been supporting me through a really tough time, and I have made most of the situations about myself. When you're in that much pain, it's hard to acknowledge that other people might need some support as well. And the second person that I've been a bad friend to, though, is myself. I have cared way too much about what one particular person or one group of particular people think about me, and in doing so, I have neglected to actually

be a friend and support myself and love myself, I guess, in that cliche way. I've been a poor friend to my brother. He's currently unemployed and instead of just listening to what he's worried about and all the things that scare him, I try to fix his problem and I try to push him into applying for jobs.

And I think I make him even more scared and sad when I do that. A time I admitted I was wrong. It happened very recently that I was literally seeing a couple and I just feel like I didn't do a good job with them. I was too fast. I didn't...

I didn't really connect with the woman the way I wanted to. I think at some point I began almost to scold her. And it was just not a good idea. It was really, it was wrong. It was bad therapy. And I literally wrote to them after the session and asked them how things went because I knew that I didn't do the job the way that I think I would like to do it and should be done.

And I think that admitting when I don't do the work well, when I feel like I missed on a session,

has been a liberating thing for me. I no longer feel like I have to justify it or like I have to deny it. I just come to the people and I say the week after, I think last week I missed this or I did that and it wasn't right or I pushed you too much. And it's really liberating to just say, I wasn't at my best. I was wrong.

It was over the summer and I was incredibly excited. My cousin, who I'm incredibly close with, and his wife came to visit with their newborn. And the plan was for them to stay with us for three weeks. And I totally underestimated how much it would take over our life to have a newborn child in the house.

And I would progressively get more and more annoyed trying to correct them. And it became this situation where it was incredibly stifling. They felt uncomfortable. Eventually, after a series of things that went wrong, I blew up. It was really embarrassing. I tried to find a time to speak to them to apologize. I actually couldn't sleep very well.

I felt amazingly ashamed. And eventually I was able to get on the phone with them and hash things out. But I was completely wrong in the way that I handled that situation. And I think I have a newfound respect also for parents and what they have to deal with. I wish someone had told me blank about sex. Oh, God.

I wish someone had told me just about anything, everything about sex. I grew up in utter ignorance. Nobody told me anything.

And the first time when I went to my mom and I said, Mom, there is no stork. And I didn't really come with the stork. And I came actually out of your belly. She told me, we will discuss this when you're older. And that was the end of the conversation about sex. So I wish she had told me just about anything and everything. She or the other people around me. I was saved by my older brother.

who was 12 years older and understood that you can't leave ignorance walking around like this, and bought me a couple of books and said, and then if you ever have any questions, just come to me. So the question, I wish someone had told me blank about sex...

And my answer is: I wish someone had just taken care of not leaving me completely clueless and ignorant. You would think that with the work I do that I had known quite a bit. No, it came much later. What did you wish someone had told you about sex? What's your story?

I wish that somebody would have told me that sex takes many forms, that the be-end-all of sex isn't just, you know, a penis and a vagina and P and B intercourse. I wish that I was told that it's touching, it's kissing, it looks and feels different every time, and it's not all about having an orgasm. I grew up

deep in the church. I was an altar boy for a little while. I used to sing the solo on Christmas morning. And I think I grew up with a narrative that I needed to be ashamed about sex, about my desire for sex or the way that I would express myself through sex. And I wish that someone had told me that sex can make me feel free.

can make me feel embodied, empowered. And that's a journey that I get to go through now, which is a blast and an adventure and something I'm grateful for. But I wish I knew a little bit earlier. The game goes just like this, round and round, till the streetlights yield to the dawn.

Wow, that was quite a night. You just can't make this stuff up. I mean, where do people come from with the kind of stories they tell that they surprise themselves. They have no idea where it's coming from. Thank you for your willingness to play. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for opening up, for sharing these kinds of incredible stories. And I hope you play again. You know what? I hope we play again.

For details, or to continue this game of stories, go to estherperel.com slash thegame.