FUH, Part 2

I would like to have another topic besides couples therapy.  Especially because right now, at this very minute, I should be studying for my yoga teacher training test, which is tonight.  If I fail, it’s the blog’s fault.

Wow, a cool new thing to blame!

But, back to wanting a new topic, I don’t really have one.  There is just the new couples’ therapist, not long for this world, because I think she’s psychotic.

Why do I think this?

Because I told her that interrupting me when I’m telling my partner I’m hurt didn’t win her any points, and I don’t really like therapists, etc, etc.  Then she says, staring directly into my eyes:

“How will this affect us?”

I put a jacket over my entire head and squealed a little.  I could feel my partner laughing next to me.  Finally, I took the jacket off of my face and looked at FUH.  She was still staring into my eyes, but now at least she didn’t quite know what to do.

I’m like, “That is just way too intimate for me.  I don’t even know you.”

I did not say, but will say here, “US?  What the f*&( do you mean, US?  There is no us.  If you want to ask how it affects the therapy, fine, but at least acknowledge that it is a business relationship, not some kind of deep bond or collaboration because the truth is I don’t even like you and I really think you desperately need a fashion consultant!!!!”

My partner and I agree that when FUH looks at you like that, she’s trying to suck your soul out of your eyes right into her super intense need for a life that she clearly does not have.

In other words, couples therapy continues to provide us with a common enemy, thereby fulfilling its purpose of keeping us bonded and getting along.

But I really don’t think I can look at FUH’s wardrobe for much longer.  It kind of hurts my eyes.


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