Guy in his mid 40s sits across from me in the booth at Chick’s Diner here in Heber City Utah. I like to take clients here because it gets them out of their office, out of their life, and into a place that while seemingly simple, is real and raw.

The guy gets real, “My relationship is falling apart. Again.”

“How’s the rest of your life working?”

He looks surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Your body? You look overweight and you’re eating a cheeseburger with fries and a scone.”

He shrugs, “No, it doesn’t feel too good. I’m tired and sluggish.”

“How about your business?”

He shrugs, “Same desk job, you know I hate it.”


“I go to keep her happy.”

So this is what I tell him: “Here’s the deal brother. You got work to do. You keep coming to me with these advanced problems in your sex life and intimacy, and none of that gets solved if you are living on fumes like you are. Consider a car without gas. We could work under the hood for years… and that wouldn’t do shit until we put some fuel in the tank. You get me?”

He nods slowly… warily. He knows this is true, but it sounds like I might be asking him to do some REAL WORK.

And he’s fucking right.