The Last Visit

I never tried a female therapist after I decided I wanted to sleep with my male therapist. 

It was a shock to me, realizing I wanted to sleep with my therapist because I had been seeing him for some time.  Suddenly one day I thought, I wonder what he looks like naked.  Where did that come from?

One day in session I thought, (thought mind you, not say) “I’m physically attracted to him.”

I was mortified because I was pretty sure he could read it in my face.

I’m not a good liar.  I will never forget the trauma I felt after realizing that in the 7th grade I had made a huge blunder in staring at Christopher just a tad bit too long.  Yes, he was the football star.  Yes, I was the pudgy wallflower but no, I wasn’t staring at him because I was starved for affection.  I was staring at him because I saw him with his father at the carwash. 

His dad’s car was newer and better looking than my dad’s car but it was Christopher’s dad that fascinated me.  He was tall like Christopher, but he was bald and his shoulders stooped.  He wasn’t attractive in middle age at all and I knew that Christopher would look just like his dad. 

So I was staring, in class.  And then the class was jeering.  I was near tears and Christopher sincerely hated me.  All through school he would go out of his way to make me miserable.  He even inspired me to diet between my sophomore and junior year – to no avail I was harassed even after losing weight.  But no matter how awful I felt, or how often I fought tears, after I gave it some thought I felt sorry for Christopher, he would look like his dad someday.

On my last visit I asked my therapist if he had any relations by the first name of Christopher.


He answered very quickly so I asked, “Are you sure?”

My therapist looked at me sharply because that was his favorite question to me, “Are you sure?”

I smiled weakly because, of course, I knew explaining would take too long and this guy was not cheap.  He shrugged and answered me, “Yes, I’m sure I’m not related to anyone named Christopher.”

I cleared my throat and told him I wasn’t coming back, that I needed a change.  He looked a little worried, then said that because my problems stem from not being able to form lasting relationships that perhaps I’d better stick with him.

A surge of sexual longing coursed through me and I had to swallow hard.  That moment will live as long as I do.  I can still see my therapist’s baldhead, stooped shoulder and shocked look after the best 10 minutes of hard sex I had ever had in my life.  I wish I had seen it sooner, it would have saved me so much money, and so much time.

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