So I was dreading seeing the doctor today in case she pressed me again to admit that I am secretly gay and in love with her, and what is more, that every emotion I feel toward other people is an extension of how I feel about her. I spent the week feeling like shouting YES, TRANSFERENCE - I KNOW.
But in the event, she didn't push it, and the conversation we had instead was a helpful one. I no longer feel convinced she's been scrutinising my social media output - apart from anything else, this would be getting close to a full-time occupation leaving no time for the other patients who are evidently also receiving treatment - instead I think maybe she's just listening carefully and joining dots.
On the other hand, the list of things I didn't disclose in today's session includes the following items:
- On Saturday night I watched "Blue is the Warmest Colour"
- On Sunday night I admitted to a friend (gay) that what I really need is a wife who will iron my clothes for me
- On Monday afternoon on the bike path I met a famous lesbian, riding the other way, and I am pretty sure she checked me out, which of course means that I was also staring pretty hard at her.
And with that, I hope that I might find it within myself to draw a filmy yet modest veil across the ongoing saga of my analysis, at least for the time being. Just, you know, feel free to imagine the very worst. Although after next week, I won't see the doctor again for three more weeks, by which time I will no doubt be feeling exactly as aggravated and spare as the man in the Roxy Music song.