Standing On A Chair

Telling it like I see it…

Rants from the Chair: On What Happens When You Marry Your Shrink

I suppose I’ll have to start this story by explaining how I got myself into therapy in the first place. 

Once upon a time I lived with, and adored, a man whom we will call Marcus. 

Marcus and I met in 1970 when we both lived in the San Francisco Bay Area, I in Tiburon, he in Sausalito.  For me, it was love at first glance.  I was first introduced to him when I was dating a friend of his.  He just literally knocked me out.  I almost immediately stopped dating his friend, and soon after, Marcus and I got together.

He was of average height, slender, an ‘older man’ at age twenty-nine, to my age twenty-two.  He wore his thick, brown hair in the style of Prince Valiant, which was fashionable back in that day.  He had what we ladies call a “GQ” kind of face, with a strong jaw, a smile to die for and plenty of charm and charisma to go with it.  Plus, he was a successful sales executive with a company headquartered in the San Francisco Financial District.

Anyway, we lived an amazing lifestyle.  He had money, the desire for adventure, and for me, with my United Airlines job, I could arrange plenty of free time and lots of free passes for travel.  We flew everywhere together and had just a fantastic time doing it.

When Marcus’ firm transferred him to Chicago, I put in a transfer with United and we both went there to live and work.  I call that period “The time we wintered in Chicago.”  For God’s sake, as I live and breathe, what could possibly motivate anyone to want to live where there are blizzards the temperature is sub-zero? 

Six months later, Marcus’ firm transferred him again, this time to Los Angeles, whereupon I quit flying and went with him, to pursue a new employment avenue, and yes, to stay with Marcus.

In 1974 we moved into a split-level apartment three blocks up the hill from shore in Manhattan Beach,California.  We had views of the Pacific Ocean from the living room and the master bedroom.  Astonishingly, rent was $350.00 per month.  At the time we felt like that was a little excessive, but still well worth it.  We both knew people in the area, so pretty quickly we had lots of friends, I got a job in sales, and my God, life was good.

Except that while Marcus’ hot looks and all his charm were heavenly, they were also not such good things.  And with money added into the picture, well, fucking forget it.  Marcus had opportunities.  He was approached by women constantly.  He travelled for business.  There were times I just knew he was cheating, but never could quite prove it, and didn’t really want to.  And when after four years together he decided he wanted to be single, I moved out, only to have him beg me to come back after three weeks.  Of course I went back.  I was so in love. 

Still, Marcus didn’t know quite what to do with me.  A friend of his recommended a psychologist, suggesting perhaps therapy would help him sort it all out.  As for me, I wasn’t sure what to do with him either.  He did not want children, I did.  He did not want marriage, I did.  The longer I we stayed together, the more anxious I became.  Plus, by this time, at age twenty-six, my biological clock wasn’t just ticking.  It was banging.

What the fuck was I thinking, allowing myself to fall in love with a man who didn’t want a family?  Apparently, I was thinking with my heart, and with my libido.

Marcus entered into psychotherapy with “Dr. Andrew Rosenberg,” the esteemed analyst with a large following and an office in Beverly Hills.

And I was soon to follow.

Stay tuned for Part 2.

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June 28, 2011 - Posted by | Psychotherapy | , , , , , ,

2 Comments »

  1. Oh, Jill, I can’t wait for Part 2, but I have to know where is Marcus now? Do you know?
    I too followed a man to a place that no Florida girl should ever go, Alberta, Canada. Forty below is an experience I never want to experience again. Why people want to live there I have no idea.

    Comment by Linda Wines Stokes | June 28, 2011 | Reply

  2. Yeah! My favorite kind of “Jill” story- lust, money love, youth, fame and fortune! Good stuff!

    Comment by Terry Sexton | June 29, 2011 | Reply


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