Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today because we’re getting paid to be here, um I mean that is to say we’re all standing out here in this meadow—which I now realize resembles the meadow in Twilight and I don’t think that’s a good sign, but whatever, I’m not a psychologist. So um yeah we’re all here because we want to witness and celebrate the commitment and the dubious judgment of these two people: This tall gorgeous man with hella nice hair and this slightly taller than average woman who looks like a Bella Swan cosplayer, yes we’re here to celebrate the deep and long lasting commitment they’re making to each other.
Therapist, do you take this vulnerable yet headstrong and challenging and super annoying and disarmingly cute little client to be your very own client, to have and to listen to her every single week after long effing week until one day in December you terminate her because you reach the end of your patience?
I do.
Client, do you take this genuine, mostly good and overly attractive yet emotionally weak and avoidant therapist to be your therapist, to gripe and to cry to him and tease and intrigue him until he gets overwhelmed and suddenly terminates you?
I do.
And now, by the authority vested in me by the state of Virginia and this piece of paper I printed out this morning, I pronounce you: Two hopeless fuckwits. You may run and hide from each other or torment each other or play with each other’s hair or do whatever the fuck it is that you’re gonna do.
Amen.
I need to get a better job.