Dr. Brenda Doyle, god love her. I'm waiting for a fresh chunk of work benefits in January to start seeing her again. Because I can't afford her otherwise. Because all my extra coin goes into funding self-medication.
30-something girl walks into Shoppers Drug Mart and shuffles to the "Prescription Pick Up" counter. She tentatively leans into the counter biting into her index fingernail. She straightens up, in an attempt to not look like a total user.
"Can I get, um, a bottle of the generic tylenol ones please?
"What size?"
"Oh gosh, um, 100?" (certainly that will take her a year to finish)
The girl gently presses her hand to her lower abdomen, feigning possibly horrendous menstrual cramps.
Sigh. So yeah. Last weekend, no... two weekends ago I read an article in Macleans about Karla Homolka and her baby. There was an evolutionary psychologist (slurp) talking about how mating and murder are very closely linked and at the time I was like "wah?" and I probably skipped that Sociobiology class to watch Danger Bay, but I digress. Today I was actually thinking about the sorts of dudes I'm attracted to in that very physical kind of way, and heavens to betsy I also kind of want to kill them. Not actually kill them but slap them around and chew on them a little bit. Its love and hate and I seem to enjoy that. So I'm adding that on to the list of reasons I need to focus on lesbianism for a while. I need to stay away from boys until I can enjoy the middle, make that emotional connection and think of them as humans.
Brenda might totally kick my ass over this theory and that's why I miss her. Like when I told her I'd discovered a pavlovian method to get over a lover - snapping an elastic band on my wrist everytime I thought of them - and she stared at me for a moment and then gently suggested I try jogging.
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