For many years I taught sexuality to medical students at Louisiana State University Medical Center in New Orleans. In the amphitheater, surrounded by several hundred near-doctors, I asked two volunteers to come out to "demonstrate touching." I asked one to take the other's hand and start stroking it, standing in front of fellow students.
I deliberately chose two men because I knew that common homophobia would force them to try to complete my task without really feeling each other. The "executor" invariably began hastily stroking his comrade's hand - mechanically and with the same movements. I often began to "help" him by giving advice: "Try to slow down the movements." The usual answer was "I'm trying!"
At the same time, the performer continued to diligently scratch the partner's hand. Sometimes I came across someone who nevertheless made the movements slowly enough to feel his partner. And you can guess what was happening at that moment: they immediately stopped touching! During feedback, we discussed how this relates to what they are doing with their lovers and patients. And they began to justify the lack of contact.
I will never forget one time I gave such a demonstration: one of the students I chose was a more mature man who had not entered medical school directly from college. I was amazed to see how slowly and deliberately he touched his "partner". The second participant was dying of embarrassment and homophobia. I told him that in ten years of demonstrations I had never seen someone touch a partner so successfully. “For this I need to gather all my will into a fist,” the student answered me, continuing to touch his partner's hand during our conversation.
A few days later, this student caught up with me in the corridor as I left my office.
"Remember me? I was one of the participants in the demonstration."
“Do I remember? I will never forget you!"
“But I wanted to tell you what happened to me from that moment. I began to reflect on my five-year-old son. He constantly complains that I am too rude to him - that I hurt him when we play some games. After the demonstration, I realized that I was touching him so rudely because I was afraid to actually feel him. And I was afraid that he might become a nanny. And I realized that I was taking out this fear on my son. My son was always as if turned on, it was difficult to get him to do something - he was even diagnosed with "hyperactivity". And so, after thinking about what had happened in class, I tried to touch him. I just allowed myself to feel it. It was a few days ago. My wife and I cannot believe in the changes that have occurred since then. My son suddenly became quiet … as if someone had discharged his inner charge. I just wanted to say thank you!"
Promotional video:
We were both silent for a few seconds. We just looked at each other. Finally, I said, "Do you mind if I ever write about you and your son?"
“What? Are we special?"
“Yes, there is a special beauty in this! I think your experience will help a lot of people."
An excerpt from the book "Passionate Marriage" by David Schnarh