I was supposed to be a vampire, but the universe got mixed up. Instead, I’m me. It’s ok, just kind of limiting.
I once had a therapist who was beautiful, but judgmental. He drove me crazy. I never realized it until just now as I was getting ready to write this, just how crazy he made me feel, constantly. To have to sit there while trying to focus on therapy with a sexy man who is built like a wet dream and yet who is so fucking judgmental was actually insane. It should’ve been in person sessions and then my therapy would’ve ended way sooner and way more clearly, with me getting fed up with his nonsense and getting on top of him or something. Something shocking that would’ve made him panic and me laugh at him panicking. Because the thing is, he was contradictory and kind of a douche with the way he carries and brings up his opinions. I love hearing his opinions, I love how he thinks, but he brought up his opinions and principles in a way that sounded like he was my friend and then he’d clam up when I said it seemed like we were. If this post is confusing, it’s because I think after all this time, this is the closest I’ve ever come to figuring out my side of things with him. I’m going to try my best, but I’m writing this in real time and haven’t thought it through.
The vampire part of me wants to slap him, wants to rip his clothes off, wants to bite him on the neck and bite his bottom lip and rough him up in a sexual way, and I want this because he is mean and a tease and it isn’t fair. He isn’t fair because he’s a walking contradiction without limits to his contradictions and he throws judgments out like he’s a king and the rest of us are his minions. I think the only things that stopped me from showing up and trying to fuck him was that my therapy was actually working (although how it was I do not know) and because I’m not hot enough to blatantly seduce him. I’m not that woman who thinks every man wants her. I know I’m not the hottest thing in any given room or on any app, and I have never cared. But I wish I could’ve been so mind boggling hot when I was a client, just for long enough to teach him a lesson. And I’m not necessarily ugly enough to where if he kept on I wouldn’t have eventually tried.
Mr. Therapist, you are a sweet, caring, insightful, smart man. You are also an entitled, judgmental asshole. You are very pretty and you think I’m pretty, but you feel the need to pair that with looking down on people who value pretty. You like to talk with me. I make you laugh. You tell me things about you that are unnecessary and I’m fine with it because I think outside rules and boxes all day long and I liked you from the first second, so why not? But then you want to shut me down when I say it feels like we’re friends. How many therapists have I had? Many, because I moved a lot and they were in person or because my insurance changed. How many of them did I ever get confused into thinking was my friend? Only you, Mr. Therapist, only you.
You confused me. You are open minded about people’s sexuality, but not about their sexual status. It’s fine for women to sleep around, but they should be married. What in the actual fucking hell does that even mean? And who the fuck are you to decide that? There were other topics like that with you too, which would’ve been fine if we were going to hang out more often and talk them through, but not if we weren’t.
You were way too much to deal with in a fifty minute period. Way too fucking much. Of course I emailed you about shit between sessions. How many other therapists have I felt like I had to contact between sessions, even in abusive situations where I was really bad off? None. Just you, Mr. Therapist, just you.
I never could figure out how we were supposed to fit in friendship type chatting, judgment, talking about sex, and my therapy issues all in that limited amount of time? You stressed me the fuck out and then when I kept getting frustrated, you didn’t listen to why, instead you seemed to take it to mean that I was disappointed in you or maybe you became disappointed or uninterested in me, I don’t know, but then you took care of the problem (which was me apparently) by dumping me like you were my boyfriend, because you looked and sounded exactly like a boyfriend, yet again. Confusing.
Here’s what I think. I think we were a very interesting therapy couple and I think it was too much for therapy and when it got to a certain point you gave up on me in a very demeaning and extremely hurtful way, which I absolutely did not deserve. You basically punished me for how things went, even though it wasn’t all my responsibility to handle everything. You know who does that sort of thing to a woman? Boyfriends do, that’s who. Therapists really don’t, unless they aren’t just being therapists.
Now you’ve gone and abandoned me and shut me out completely (just like a boyfriend) and I have been very messed up from it, mainly because it was so confusing to me.
You shouldn’t toy with women, Mr. Therapist. One day one of them might punish you for being the bad boy you are.
You have not taken responsibility and reached out to tell me I was a good client and that you’re sorry for ending things badly with me. To be blunt, you are still behaving exactly like a fucked up boyfriend, so that’s what I’m going to classify you as. Several people I’ve talked with have said that to me from the beginning and I guess I just didn’t want to believe that I could’ve gotten into something that confusing, but I guess I’m trouble sometimes so they’re right. So Mr. Therapist, you are my ex-boyfriend. What the fuck and also congratulations. I am very angry with you, and because of the judgment and mixed signals you constantly gave me—
I want to bite you and kiss you and do things to you because you hate me and I think that must be the perfectly terrible punishment for a perfect looking perfectly entitled guy such as you. You toyed with me, Mr. Therapist Boyfriend, so you deserve to be toyed with. A blog doesn’t really cut it because it can’t produce the necessary tension and frustration and drama that you are subconsciously begging for. You want it so bad and don’t worry, gorgeous, the universe will see to it that you get it. I love this because now that I know what happened, I don’t have to do much at all. I am the catalyst, you are the drama. You don’t need me to help you make a mess. You got this. I’m here for it, because you’re actually really great in my opinion, but you can’t go around hurting clients, naughty therapist, you really can’t do that. It isn’t nice.
But hey in the moments when you are in therapist mode, go get some therapy. Feel free to bitch and complain that your ugly unsexy headstrong turbulent client wants to fuck you like you’re both vampires, to teach you a lesson. That should give you several sessions worth of material.
Tell me how that angry energetic rebellious unruly awful little client saying she wants to fuck your brains out makes you feel?
Why do you think you let things get muddled with her for so long? What does she bring out in you and why do you think that is?
Client, why do you think having sex with the therapist you hate would be a punishment for him and not you?
Because it’s sex and it would be fun and he shouldn’t mess with women just because he’s hot and thinks he can. I also think it would make me feel in charge since he has had most of the power all this time.
Interesting, well that’s all the time we have for today.
Fuck therapy.
And fuck you, Mr. Too Sexy for Sex Therapist who hurt me, fuck you.
Figuratively, and this time, literally too.