Page 22 of Poolside

She reached for a green folder and flipped it open, scanning the contents. “What brings you in today?”

Chuck tucked one of his long legs up and under himself. “I want to talk to you about switching up my meds.”

She looked up, not bothering to hide her surprise. “I thought you were doing well?”

“I am, I just…” Chuck shrugged. “The side effects are getting to me.”

“Which ones?”

He felt himself flush. “The sexual side effects. I can’t,” he paused to wet his lips. “I can’t come. Half of the time I can barely get hard.”

When the options had been either hovering on the edge of a breakdown or potential side effects that could impact his sexual gratification, Chuck hadn’t thought twice about the choice. He’d needed to function more than he needed to get off.

But now? Things had changed. Now he was out to the people who mattered most to him and he was reaching his mid-thirties. He was so ready to build something lasting with someone that it felt like a strong hand squeezing his chest.

Chuck was tired of explaining to his partners that he might not get hard. That it wasn’t them, it was him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying whatever they were doing, or that their touch didn’t feel good. It was just that there was a numbness that came with the peace in his head. And no matter the circumstances, no matter how much he longed for release, his body had other plans.

Dr. Mahoney nodded. “That’s a completely valid concern. And how are you feeling otherwise?”

“Otherwise I’m good.”

“Are you still seeing Doctor Anderson?”

“Yeah. Once every two weeks.” Chuck had been with the same therapist for years now, and was happy with the relationship he’d built with the kind-eyed, white haired man.

“That’s good.” She took a moment, like she was deep in thought. “So,” she began, looking up at him with a serious expression on her face. “There are two ways we can address this. We can reduce your dose and stick with what has worked, or we could try a different medication that has a track record of not having anorgasmia as a side effect.”

“Anorgasmia?”

“The physical inability to reach orgasm,” she clarified.

“That one,” Chuck immediately jumped in. “I want to try the new meds.”

Dr. Mahoney nodded, watching him so closely Chuck felt his skin itch. “There’s no guarantee,” she cautioned. “This new medication will come with its own set of side effects. All we can do is try.” Her pen scratched against paper, the sound bright in the quiet room. “We’ll titrate over the next few months, and then we can aim to make the switch at the end of June. As we’re reducing your dosage, pay attention to how you feel. You may find a sweet spot that works for you in the process. And make sure to schedule extra appointments with Dr. Anderson. You’ve been on the same medication for a long time now, so brace yourself for a potentially tough transition.”

Chuck nodded, making a mental note to call his therapist and get on the books for extra sessions. He couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t a part of him that was nervous. The idea of rocking the boat and risking upsetting the balance that had worked for so long scared him.

But the promise of being just a little more normal, of not having to walk into every intimate moment with a glaring reminder that his life was ruled by depression?

The possibility was worth everything.

Chuck scooted forward, planting both of his feet on the ground. “So, when do we start?”

“I’ll write you a plan and send it over by the end of the week.”

* * *

It was still mostly dark out when Chuck pulled up to the Southeastern outdoor pool.

He was used to starting his days in the dark. As a lifelong swimmer, starting his days before the sunrise was a constant, and during the season, the Southeastern team practiced early in the mornings. Chuck had a routine: feed the cats, eat a bowl of cereal, make a cup of coffee, and take his meds.

This morning he’d started on his reduced dose. He’d done some additional reading over the weekend on this new medication—an NDRI instead of the SSRI he’d been prescribed since his initial diagnosis. The side effects were nothing new: dry mouth, nausea, headaches, and insomnia were on there.As long as I can finally come,he thought to himself.

He grabbed his mesh bag of gear and the towel he always kept tossed over his back seat and made his way through the neatly pruned crepe myrtle hedge to the black iron fence that surrounded the pool. He was unlocking the gate when bright headlight beams cut across the fence.

Chuck pushed the gate open, turning to watch Tommy climb out of his car and walk toward him with the kind of lumbering bleariness of someone who was out of bed earlier than usual.

“Morning,” Chuck said, unable to stop himself from appreciating how handsome his friend looked.

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