My Therapist Fucks Around

Hahaha.

That was so funny.

Just now, I retrieved a message on my cell phone from my therapist.

We had missed appointments (my memory problems lately) and he was talking about setting up an appointment and he said "Let's hook up..." and there was this weird pause.

Then he continued on with the grammar of his sentence.

But it was a deadly mistake.

He knew someone could hear himself catching himself too late.

But then he reasoned in that fraction of a second that he was policing himself too strongly, and that he was being paranoid, so he let the message stand.

Or else he just decided I was an "okay" person to see the slip up.

He probably knows I would hear that. Funny little slip up.

Stet.

Slut.

It was so obvious.

This is how he talks with women and he got confused for a minute what mainframe he was in.

I don't judge him. He's divorced or in the process of it anyway.

Well, he's getting divorced because of fun like the fun to which he just accidentally alluded.

He's not very cagey about his life and doesn't take on airs, so he would probably just laugh if I told him I could see his mental processes occurring at the microsecond level like this.

Because he would know how true it was.

He wasn't on the dating phoneline, he was on the work phone.

But for a millisecond he got all confuzzed.

Probably because he had been on the other line recently.

Poor luststruck italiano.

The men thing.

Straight or gay.

The curse is there.

I know all about it.

Got nothing but love for ya baby.

Sooner or later it's a man, a couch and a refrigerator.

Oh, and dvd porn.

And the entire graduating class of three or four years ago weighing oh so heavily upon your mind.

Your benighted mind.