My therapist is on Daddyhunt–looking for someone just like me! There I was, perusing the new faces… “Hey, he looks cute, I think I’ll click on–OMIGOD, it’s my therapist in his underwear!” Now, it’s been several years since I saw him, maybe he won’t even recognize me, but there he is in his boxers and wife-beater, in the very same house with the commemoritive Wizard of Oz ornament display, the same Persian rug that my psyche spilled all over. Should I ask him out? He already knows what to expect. Free therapy, real transference… how could I resist? Suddenly I’m remembering all the times sitting in his office and those eyes–those puppy dog eyes–looking me up and down… was he sizing up more than my mental state? Grateful that he wasn’t in the same awkward position(s) as my boyfriend(s) at the time, but later, with his boyfriend, fantasizing about the back of my head bobbing up and down on his hot therapist lap? I’m freaked out. It’s like walking into the room and your parents are at it–you know they do it, but, omigod, Mom? and Dad? are doing it??
Tales of Post-Twinkie Ennui