Gil strolled in and plopped himself on the couch, “I think the heart of the matter is that I just don’t like myself. But then the thing is, having an utter contempt for oneself makes it extremely difficult to respect the ability to judge character or even make good decisions of anyone stupid enough to want to be my friend.”
“What in the world are you doing on the couch?” Dr. Vij asked huffily.
“I’m telling you what’s on my mind; that’s how it works.”
“But this is my living room,” Dr. Vij protested further.
Gil looked around a little surprised, “So it is, but that’s no reason we can’t have a productive session.”
“B-b-but,” stammered the good doctor, “I’m a gynecologist.”
“Hey, hey, hey doc,” Gil said raising his hands in protest, “First I ain’t got that plumbing and second I think that would be a bit of a boundary violation for our therapeutic relationship.”
Dr. Vij was dumbfound and put down the file in his hand to run both hands through his thinning hair, “What relationship? I don’t even know who you are!”