Yesterday I found out my therapist isn’t gay.
I told him I knew it didn’t matter but I still felt betrayed, just like when it turned out that Atkins protein bars are actually full of carbohydrates, even though they’re the kind of carbohydrates that don’t have any effect on your blood sugar and therefore don’t count as Atkins carbs. But still. They’re full of carbs.
I hate everyone.
Are you saying that if Dr. Atkins were gay, his protein bars wouldn’t have carbs in them?
I think you’re saying that if Dr. Atkins (or your therapist) (or Atkins’s therapist) were gay, he would be full of protein.
I asked the only therapist I ever had whether she cared about me on day during one of our sessions. I wanted to know whether she really gave a sh*t about me.
She said, “What do you think?”
I looked at her and said, “Well, I guess you do. You sit here and listen to all my whining and complaining. You must care about me.” But deep inside I wasn’t sure she did and part of me wanted to believe she was only sitting there watching me break down and handing me tissues because of the salary she was getting for doing it. Weeks, maybe months later, she left without leaving behind a forwarding address. They would have reassigned me to someone else. I never went back.
I’ll never really know either way whether she cared about me or not, but I am sure I’ll never go back to therapy. Once I got over my sexuality issues–as a result of therapy and my own effort–everything else that came after was a piece of cake. I can take care of my problems on my own. I don’t need someone who may or may not care about me to sit there and listen anymore.
Anyway, hopefully your therapist, gay or not, will help you find the answers you need. Once you find them, it won’t matter whether or not he was gay–just that you got what you needed to out of the experience and the therapist was competent enough to do his job in that capacity.
Considering the amount of money you pour into his income, the question should not have been whether he was gay but whether he’d be gay for pay.
PS I thought we were just going to have sex in the laundry room and leave it at that?
Good god! If I had to listen to that kind of claptrap all day, I’d flee, too.
That’s not what you said last night when you were sucking my ****.