my taste in men is hysterically bad. i've mentioned this before ad nauseum on other websites, tv, radio.... really i'm a blabber mouth and anyone who has ever dated me has at some point been subjected to my oversharing to complete strangers in various mediums.

if you are marginally employed, have drinking and/or substance abuse issues, feel like bleeding me dry, we should probably just fuck. that's how simple it is. there is one exception. after splitting with my ex-hubby of 9 years (who mind you had all of those characteristics) and a series of terrible rebounds, a friend recommended i see a counselor. after some prodding i agreed and when i first saw him i was sure i would be back for more sessions. honest to cheebus, anyone who knows me knows that this is in fact a true story.

in the beginning, i couldn't tell how exactly he felt about my sexuality. he would shift around at times when i discussed sexcapades, and eventually i looked down and realized it was because he was trying to discreetly adjust his erection. i stopped mid-sentence and gasped. he blushed and muttered out, "er... continue.... please".

i've never been particularly shy, and i certainly wasn't ready to return to whatever the fuck i was babbling about. my response was basically "oh man!" and i shot out of my seat and lunged at him with a kiss. we made out pretty aggressively for five mins or so me straddling him on his chair. i had my left hand on his shoulder and my right was running under his shirt, now lowering to his crotch. ok.. Dr. A had freakishly large peen at which point i was doomed. there was a ding on his timer and we both sort of woke up and came to our senses. "what now?" i asked. "you can no longer be my patient." he replied. "oh, but will you see me again?"

[long pause]

at this point i got up from his lap, turned around and walked toward my bag hoping pretty desperately the sight of my ass leaving his immediate reach would provide some sort of filthy motivation.