“How have you been?” “Not great.” “What’s going on?” she asked.
In my peripheral vision, I could see her legs crossed, black short-heeled shoes, her foot tapping in the air.
“There’s this boy,” I said. “And?” “I don’t know.
He’s cute and smart and I like him, but I’m not getting any better, and I just feel like if this can’t make me happy, then what can?”
“I don’t know. What can?” I groaned. “That’s such a psychiatrist move.”
“Point taken. A change in personal circumstances, even a positive one, can trigger anxiety.
So it wouldn’t be uncommon to feel anxious as you develop a new relationship. Where are you with the intrusive thoughts?”
“Well, yesterday I was making out with him and had to stop everything because I couldn’t stop thinking about how gross it was, so not great.”
“About how gross what was?” “Just how his tongue has its own particular microbiome
and once he sticks his tongue in my mouth his bacteria become part of my microbiome for literally the rest of my life.
Like, his tongue will sort of always be in my mouth until I’m dead, and then his tongue microbes will eat my corpse.”
“And that made you want to stop kissing him.” “Well, yeah,” I said.
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