me vs. therapy

'my uterus hates me.'

'you think every part of your body hates you.'

'that's not true. my stomach likes me.'

'is that right? i'd think if all i was fed day in and day out were granola bars and potato buns, i'd be miserable.'

'yeah, well it's not. but, the uterus is. remember how i had horrible, awful cramps for the last 19 years?'

'no. i don't care either.'

'well, i don't really have the cramps as badly...'

'but you're going to continue telling me anyway.'

'...but now, instead of like having it for 5 days, she saves up and drops the bomb all in one day.'

'that's fascinating.'

'it's not fascinating, it's miserable. how many mongo-sized tampons can one person go through a day?'

'angela...do you see ''dr." on my door.'

Look over at Satan. Satan rolls eyes, heaves heavily, gets up from lazy boy, stomps to door. opens door, looks at other side of door, thumbs up, closes door, stomps back to lazy boy, sits down.

Look over at therapist, say; 'yes.'

'angela...do you see "medical dr.' on my door.

Look over at Satan. Satan raises middle finger, feigns sleep.

Look back at therapist, say; 'but  why don't you care?'

'sadly, and i know this is hard for you to understand, but not everyone in this world wants to hear about your menstral cycle.'

'that is sad.'

'yes, i know. but, we'll get through it together. what else is new?'

'the girl in her early 20's who wanted me to go on a date with her cancelled on me.'

'the girl in her early 20's who i told you not to go on a date with because she'd end up cancelling on you?'

'yes.'

'how surprising.'

'and sad.'

'yes, i know, but we'll get through it together. what else is new?'

'umm, p-town was fun.'

'meet any donkeys that perked your interest?'

'no. they were either too young to trot or too old to bear a rider. but i had fun because i went with my friend and we drank a lot of martini's. i got bit on the foot by a spider in our hotel though. it turned pink, i thought i was going to die. want to see it, it's on my toe?'

'remember the "medical dr." thing we just went through?'

'yes. but do you want to see my toe?'

'no. i don't. tell me more about your time in p-town.'

'why, because you're gay?'

'no, because i'm interested in your time in p-town.'

'sure you are. well, i barfed in a poorly lit porta potty without getting any yak on my white linen shirt or in my hair.'

Bored stare.

'hey, you know...you can bored stare at me like that and try to trivialize the accomplishment. but, puking up chowder and martini's in a dark porta potty without messing up your outfit is pretty skilled.'

'i bet you smelled great afterwards.'

'i had gum on hand for just such an occassion.'

'did you kiss anyone?'

'no.'

'gum didn't work then did it?'

'i wasn't trying.'

'sure you weren't. so is that all you did in p-town, drink and vomit?'

'yeah. it's kind of the point.'

'you're 37.'

'don't judge me.'

'that's your projection. i'm not judging.'

'then why'd you ask that question?'

'to see what you'd project i'd judge.'

'that doesn't make any sense.'

'maybe not to someone who doesn't have "dr." on their door.'

'i don't think i like you anymore.'

'no, you like me even more.'

Look over at Satan. Satan gives thumbs up.

Look back at therapist. Scowl. say: 'when are you getting a new fish?'

'shortly. i just need to pick one out, i've been pretty busy.'

'how much time does it take to pick out a fish?'

'apparently a lot because i haven't gotten to it yet.'

'hmm, you'd think a dr. could organize her time better than that, since she's so smart and everything...'

'do you really want to play this game?'

Think hard. Make think hard face. say; 'yes.'

'of course you do. too bad you'll have to wait until our next session because our time is up. you'll have a whole week to think up game playing strategy.'

'you're condescending.'

'yes, i am. but, i think it's a nice counter to your sarcastic, antagonistic nature. so we're even.'

'i'm antagonistic?'

'goodbye, angela.'

'i know what my problem is now.'

'what do you think your problem is, angela?'

'i've been single for so long that i don't comprehend social norms.'

'that's interesting. why do you say that?'

'because i'm weird, therapist.'

Look over at Satan. Satan affirms.

Look back at therapist, say; 'i've been alone for nearly 3 years now. i'm always with me.'

'you talk about that like it's a negative.'

'well, no. but, yes too. i've just spent so much time talking to myself, shopping with myself, jogging with myself, sitting with myself, reading with myself, driving with myself, cooking with myself, showering with myself...that i'm like....weird around other people.'

'i don't think showering with just yourself is that unusual.'

'you see. you just proved my point. i say weird shit.'

'you have friends. you go out. that's good socialization.'

'my friends know i'm strange. they just shrug and accept it. new people...think i drink drano.'

'now that's just silly. if you actually drank drano you'd be dead.'

'true.'

'give me an example of a situation where this occured.'

'ok. i was on a first date with a girl. we're at a restaurant. i bring up my views on lesbians who get artificial insemination.'

'why?'

'who the fuck knows! because i'm a moron!! just out of the blue i start spewing that if i was with a girl who wanted a kid, i wouldn't spend all that damn money to have some dude i don't know fill up a baster, i'd just whisk my woman down to the local bar, buddy up to the nearest hot dude, take him back home with us and let nature take its course.'

Therapis blinks, clears throat, says; 'you said this on a first date to a woman you'd never met before?'

'yeah. see what i mean?'

'well. angela, maybe it's just nerves that get you all worked up. people say the strangest things when they are nervous.'

'i wasn't nervous. i'm strange.'

'i'm sure you'll find someone that will find that very attractive.'

'uh-huh. like marliyn manson.'

'i don't think you're weird. well, you are...but it's endearing. you'll find someone who will appreciate it and love you for it. also, keep in mind that spending time with yourself is a wonderful way to get to know what you need and what you want. you find out who you are and that's an extrodinary tool in life.'

'i'm a nerotic, judgemental, spoiled, egotistical, selfish baby.'

'anything else?'

'i'm really funny.'

'if you say so.'

'and i have really great taste in paint colors. and i'm clean. and neat....'

'ok, i'm going to stop you right there because your list could extend well past our alloted time together.'

'did you know that poop is brown because it contains large amounts of dead red blood cells.'

Blank stare.

Look over at Satan. Satan shakes head back and forth.

Look back at therapist. Say; 'see? ugh.'

'it's interesting information, angela. thank you for sharing. but do me a favor and never, ever tell anyone you're on a date with, thinking of dating or remotely attracted to what you just said. ok?'

'yep. sorry.'

'don't apologize, just keep some of those wikipedia facts to yourself.'

'right.'

'so, our time is up and i want you to continue enjoying spending time with yourself. just remember, it's a good thing.'

'sure it is.'

Therapist winks.

Smile back.

'it certainly has been awhile since i've seen you.'

'yeah, well i've been doing great so i thought i'd put 'us' on hold.'

'uh-huh. so, how are things?'

'i have a new boss.'

'what happend to angry bitch?'

'there was a regime change. i'm now serving under the nazi fat fucking shit bag.'

'sounds to me like there's some disdain in your voice.'

'i'd rather be trapped on a deserted island with angry bitch for 10 years than reporting to this douchebag asshole.'

'perhaps we should pump the brakes a bit.'

Look over at Satan. Satan burns.

Look back at therapist, say; 'he's fat. he's disgusting. he's missing a tooth on the side of his mouth. i stare at it when he talks to me. but, he doesn't really talk to me. he talks to the wall. he won't look me in the eye. kind of like a dog looks at you out of the corner of his eye right before he bites your fucking hand off.'

'ok, well aside from his appearance, angela...why don't you like him?'

'he couldn't manage his way out of a paper bag. everything, and i mean...everything, he does is the absolute wrong way to manage people. to make a sweeping statement...everyone hates him.'

'except his wife.'

'no, i'm pretty sure she does too.'

'i see. well, i think you're going to have to suck it up and play the game. maybe he'll move on to bigger and better things and you won't have to see him much longer.'

'or maybe he'll choke on the pile of onion rings he gulps down every day and no one will save him.'

'that's nice angela.'

'what?'

'moving right along, how's the dating life?'

'i painted and gardened all weekend.'

Therapist smiles.

Frown back.

Therapist smiles.

Frown back, say; 'why are you smiling at me like that?'

'i never really thought i'd see you be happy about painting and gardening. it's a nice change.'

'yeah. thanks, i think. i'm really happy now that i've been away from the barn yard for a while. i don't really miss the donkey's that much. they're more of a nuisance than anything. really.'

'uh-huh. what colors did you paint?'

'the bathroom is organic lettuce. the bedroom is gourd.'

'sounds interesting.'

'it sounds like a god damn farmers market. but it looks cool. anything is better than the beige.'

'everything else ok?'

'i have a trip to p-town planned for memorial day weekend.'

'uh-oh! that's a drunken lesbian festival. i hope you have fun, but are careful.'

'how do you know it's a lesbian festival?'

'i may have read about it somewhere.'

'that's bullshit...'

'oh, look at the time. we're done.'

'you're gay aren't you?! i have proof now.'

'you have no proof only wishful thinking.'

'that's crap, only lesbians know about the drunken lesbians at p-town on memorial day weekend. you're gay!'

'time to go, angela.'

'where...to p-town on memorial day weekend with me? ahahahahahaaa....'

'you're very funny. it's no wonder the donkey's can't keep their hooves off you.'

'hey. that's sarcasm. i'd smell it anywhere.'

'have a great week.'

Sigh...say; 'ok, well i know that you know that i know that you're a big gay-mo. i just want you to know that. before i go.'

'i'll make a note of it in my notes.'

'bye therapist.'

'goodbye angela.'

'how are you doing with your lent catastrophe?'

'clean and sober going on 4 weeks.'

'that's fantastic. feeling any different?'

'i'm angrier.'

'that's not possible.'

'oh haha. i'm doing alright. i'm definately saving money by not drinking diet coke.'

'unfortunately you're losing it on....?'

'water, crystal light and i've really taken a shine to cosmoplitans.'

'well, there's always next year.'

'what? i think i've been doing fantastic.'

'of course you have. so your birthday is tomorrow and by all accounts i'd wager a guess...without looking at my notes...that you'll be about 37.'

'you looked at your notes before i got here.'

'yes i did.'

'lying therapists...'

'excuse me?'

'nothing...well, i can't say that i'm ecstatic about it. but i guess being alive is a bonus, so i'm going to hold onto that.'

'37 isn't that old angela.'

'that's a lie.'

'hey, i'm trying.'

'how old are you?'

'that's not pertinent.'

'you know...as a birthday present from my therapist you could try and be a little fun and loose and interesting today.'

'yes, well our ideas of fun and loose and interesting are a little different.'

'so...you don't like strip clubs?'

'angela.'

'ok.'

'what are you going to do for it?'

'i'm going to sit at my desk and blink a lot when someone asks me to do something work related, stare at the clock, constantly check my fb page to make sure i'm getting more birthday wishes than my ex, and at exactly 4:29, because i want to be a rule breaker, i'm going to leave and go out with my friends and have a diet coke.'

'you're going to dissapoint baby jesus who suffered on the cross for you just because you feel owed your soda on your birthday?'

'yes.'

Look over at Satan. Satan glows, cracks open bottle of diet coke. Guzzles.

Look back at therapist, say; 'i feel old.'

'that's perfectly normal.'

'i don't want to be old. i don't want to be that dyke standing in the corner of the dark club with mom jeans pulled up to the belly button and deck shoes and short butched hair bopping her head to the beat while watching the young girls woop it up and dance and think that i should be home in bed reading instead.'

'you're only as old as you think you are.'

'i think i'm young. until i keep my leg bent underneath me for too long. or try to remember what i was trying to not forget to remember 2 minutes ago. or when i slip in the shower and have a vision of cracking my head on the way down and having to lay there for days like the blue-haired geriatric in the life alert commercials. or when i jog on the treadmill and need 2 days to recover because my hip feels like it slipped out of joint.'

'i'm pretty sure you're exaggerating a little bit, angela.'

'i'm fat.'

'you're not fat.'

'i'm wrinkled.'

'only when you smile.'

'i have grey hairs.'

'well, yeah you do.'

'you're a big fucking help.'

'reality. it's my birthday gift to you.'

'i'd like to return it.'

'there's no receipt.'

'all i said was "you sound angry, but i really like the tone in your voice right now. it's kinda turnin' me on".'

'and then?'

'i heard a click.'

'really?'

'well, no. i'm lying. the phone didn't really click because it's a cell phone and what cell phones actually make a click when you hang them up? it was more like in the movies when the girl is in a home all alone at night and the creepy killer caller says he's going to kill her and then you hear like....a dead silence. that's more or less what it sounded like.'

'your clarification, however unnecessary, was well done.'

'thanks. so, that means she's not happy with me huh?'

'hmm, well usually angela, when someone hangs up on me...i figure they might not want to talk to me. for awhile.'

'yeah. but, you see i was lightening the tension with humor.'

'yeah. but, you see not everyone needs the tension lightened.'

'oh...i get it. sort of.'

'maybe you should try and be more compassionate when it comes to others feelings.'

Blank stare.

Look over at Satan. Satan blank stares back.

Look back at therapist, say; 'i'm compas....'

'no.'

'but, yes i ....'

'you're not at all.'

'bu...'

'stop. you're not.'

'you can't keep cutting me o...'

'yes i can.'

'i'm paying!'

'oh no angela....i'm paying. believe me.'

'well, that's just crap. i do nice stuff for people.'

'yes, you do. as long as you're going to get something out of it....like ice cream, attention, sex, a martini, satisfaction, an ego boost....'

'are you done?'

'not really no. but i guess the list could be endless, so i'll just stop there.'

'did one of my exs write you a letter or something?'

'angela. what you have to realize is this. not everyone takes most situations as lightheartedly as you do. especially when it comes to their feelings and heart and soul.'

Look over at Satan. Satan looks confused.

Look back at therapist, say; 'whatever. you might be right.'

'yes. i might be. next time, instead of chiming in with a funny quipe, listen instead.'

'that's not fun.'

'is being single fun?'

'yes.'

'you're just saying that to contradict me.'

'yes.'

'stop doing it.'

'yes.'

'angela.'

'yes.'

'don't say yes anymore.'

'ok.'

'don't start saying ok to everything either.'

'i hate that you know me.'

'sometimes i do too.'