Last time I brought up my therapist’s office, I wrote about the girl who I see each week in the waiting room. An update to that story is that we both rode the elevator down together, just her and I, a month ago. We said hello and smiled at each other. First contact.
Today I rode my bike to work, which is ten miles, hung out for 30 min, then jumped back on my bike to head to therapy. Which is about three miles away. By the time I got to her office, I was a sweaty-Freddie. That’s not a thing, I just like rhyming things with dudes’ names once in awhile, Kyle.
So, I’m cooling down in a polyester sweat-wick shirts or whatever it’s called. I’m still dripping last night’s Fresca from my pores onto the barcalounger in the waiting room.
I’ve been going here for three years, each week. I feel like I have a pretty firm grasp of the place, what exists in the waiting room, the hallway, and my doctor’s office. But for some reason I missed this.
I should probably explain that the entire office (not my therapist’s doing) is completely outfitted in Georgia O’Keeffe paintings. And Georgia O’Keeffe is an American genius when it comes to painting. Painting vaginas.
Nobody loved vaginas more than her. She must have painted hundreds of them. I don’t know what her deal was with the v, but she was a lady obsessed. It’s her signature move. Monet loved the garden. O’Keeffe loved the hoo.
Now, at 10:15am, this is not a welcome sight. In fact, there’s a little bit of naseua that came up, quite frankly. Hey, look, I’m a guy. We dig a naked woman. But not one cleaning the house or cooking dinner. Keep your clothes on until it’s time for lovemaking. And by the way, I decided to only use that term going forward. “Our lovemaking session was really amazing last night, Marilyn!” “You are an excellent lovemaker, Barb!”
So, I’m not sure a big old v is the right call for a waiting room. I mean some of the people that come in are probably sexual deviants. No reason to give them ammo. Just do Whistler’s mother or some shit. Nobody’s getting turned on by her.
LorcaDamon says:
The painting’s were a test from your therapist. And you just failed. There’s now a red Post-It flag sticking out of your file. 🙂
D.J. Paris says:
@LorcaDamon I cannot beat that comment. Plus one to you, LD.
QTwitBitch says:
I thought you might be an OBGYN when I read the title of this. I heard that MIchael Jackson was dead on the radio in my shrinks office. sometimes life is weird. Maybe you need to get some lovemaking?
D.J. Paris says:
@QTwitBitch I have not the smarts for med school. My lovemaking is better, however, than most physicians. I did a survey.
lyndsay says:
I like that you gave your imaginary lovers names from 50 years ago. I make the same mistake with “Doug”s and “Al”s showing up in my scenarios. We owe ourselves better forecasts.
D.J. Paris says:
Al is not a young guy name. You must fantasize about dudes 60+.
allmysteryenews says:
RT @RachelintheOC I Stare at Vs (In My Doctor’s Office) http://t.co/s22SWuNz via @tfpHumorBlog
chrliechaz says:
@RachelintheOC Actually I believe O’Keefe said several times that she was not painting “Vs”. Also flowers are inherently sexual.
D.J. Paris says:
@chrliechaz Trust me – those are Vs. She loved ’em.
Jo says:
I would rather look at a vagina than Whistler’s mother. In fact, Whistler probably wouldn’t have painted that if he’d had some proper therapy.
D.J. Paris says:
I’m going to take a huge photo of my taint, frame it, and nail it up above your mantle. You will throw up. Guaranteed.
Singleguywkids says:
No offense but I think women are sexy as hell when they are cooking. The cleaning thing I will give you.
D.J. Paris says:
@Singleguywkids Cooking naked? I don’t believe you.
LauLau81 says:
I make the same mistake with “Doug”s and “Al”s showing up in my scenarios. We owe ourselves better forecasts.
Diana says:
Lol! The company I used to work for has lots of Georgia’s paintings, and I used to tell everyone that I thought they looked like vajayjays! I’m glad you feel the same way!