Finding Forty, Day 61; Last Dates

Today I sent an email to the new therapist canceling my appointment for Thursday evening.   I was forthright in the message, indicating that 1) I don't have anywhere near the kind of money it will require to attend weekly sessions and 2) I also had to confess that I didn't think we were a good fit.

I admitted to her that during the course of our first interaction, I'd already started editing myself.   This is how it happened.

During my revelation to her about my past year, plus anything else pertinent I could think to add to the list (parents saying hurtful things, mom dying, never having any self esteem to speak of), I posed that age old question, "Why?"

"Why would S do this to me?  Why would he tell me all the things he said, do the things he did, look at me and hold me with the love I know I felt and then just drop me and walk away?"

"Sex" she replied, without blinking a bespectacled eye.   "99% of the time it is."

Maybe my face registered something, the disgust giving me away.   I think I actually replied, "Ouch.   That pretty much sucks."

And it does.  

Now don't get me wrong.  I don't mind people keeping it real with me.  My best friends do and yes, it makes me bristle and pisses me off, but in 25 minutes of listening to me talk, I didn't want or appreciate her making blanket assumptions about someone I happen to still love, despite it all.  

Yes, S was in an essentially sexless marriage, but we had many more opportunities to sleep with one another than we actually did and he was always the one to put on the brakes.

In my heart of hearts, I know it wasn't just about the sex.

That's not the only reason I don't think we were a good fit.   It was this other thing she did too.   After I sat and spilled my ever-loving guts to her in her country cottage meets new age kitschy office, she looked at me rather stoically and said in a vaguely sincere voice, "I'm sorry.  I bet that hurts."

I couldn't feel any emotion coming from her.   I wasn't looking for pity.  I'd probably had rather her half chuckle and retort, "Now that's some fucked up shit!   What are you going to do about it?"   Instead I got the pat, textbook answer that did nothing to win me over.

Either way, I sent the email and this afternoon I got her response.   I was relieved at her words and for half a second toyed with the idea that she might just work after all.  

She wrote, "Thank you for letting me know.  I appreciate your candor.  I noticed the same thing during the session, and wondered if you thought I had a vested interest in you choosing one of the two paths before you.  I am sorry if I mistakenly gave that impression in trying to discover your feelings about it. It is your decision, and only you can make it.  I don't think one way is better than the other, but I do think with further reflection you will become clear which one is right for you."


So first dates can also be last dates and it really doesn't hurt that much at all.   I'm happy I was honest with her and didn't waste either of our time.


I should incorporate this into my life more often.


I just wish every last date was as easy.