So remember the guy from eHarmony that I went on a date with who i discovered knew my therapist and her husband and is friends with them? Yeah, him. The one I decided wasn't worth my mental health so I chose my therapist over him. I never told you that part? my bad.
Anyway, so Thursday night at the Steel Magnolias performance, who do I see walking out of the theater and towards the greeting of the actors line but Kerry (the names have been changed to protect the guilty). However, he passes by me right as I begin to say to myself, "hey, I went on a date with that guy," and he heads towards Truvy, another social worker and therapist whose office it turns out, he works in.
"You know Kerry?!" I said to her afterwards in the dressing room. "Yes," she said, "why?" "I DATED him. But he knew my therapist so it didn't work out." Truvy laughed, "Did he talk to you tonight?" "No. Maybe he didn't remember me."
And the next day at work she sauntered over to Kerry's desk. "So... did you recognize anyone in the play last night?"
"As soon as I opened the program!" And then they had a good laugh because not only does he know my therapist but apperently they're like BFF's or something.
"Good thing you didn't get involved with him," Truvy reported back to the dressing room gossip chain where we discussed everything from Mexican lubricants to break-up underwear (don't ask). "He and Cheryl and Jason (my therapist and her husband - names unchanged to protect the innocent) are best friends Ann. She'd have been like throwing you wedding showers and stuff."
"What would you have done if you got involved with Kerry only to find out later that he and Cheryl are close friends?" Anelle, who also is active in therapy, asked.
"I'd choose my therapist."
I know that seems like a typical anti-men sentiment on my part (and trust me, after last night's events, I've overdue for a few snide anti-men comments - story for another time), but truthfully I would choose my therapist. Without the work I've done with Cheryl over the past year and a half, I would not be where I am today: able to do online dating, able to laugh about how many musicians I've dated in Austin, able to take the criticism of my peers both Christian and non-Christian who feel they have an investment in my love life (why I'll never know), etc. etc. etc. I'm a pretty damn healthy person right now and seriously I give three people credit for this... God (I'm cheating a little), Cheryl and myself. I've worked my ass off to be healthy and be able to date again and no guy is going to come in between me and my therapist for that reason.
I think my parents think I'm crazy. "But why do you have to write about the bad stuff when the hope you write about is so much more effective at affecting people."
"Because I can't get to the redemption without going through the pain." It's all for one and one for all. You can't live until you die. The ying and the yang. Or something philosophical or spiritual like that.
So yes, men of the world, watch out. I like my therapist more than I like all of you. Probably because she's a good listener, she encourages me, but also gently calls me out on my shit when I'm being ridiculous. She would make a great husband. Without all the "let's talk about your childhood" crap.
And if you're friends with her, then you're not going to get to date me because my mental health will not be compromised. Take that Kerry who comes to the baptist church with the theater in it and doesn't realize that it's probably my church with my theater since there are a whopping NO other baptist churches with theaters in them in our town.
And next time say hi to me and say I did a good job in the play.