So, I picked my Kaiser Permanente doctor based on his hotness.
Oh, don't you judge. WHY is there a picture of the doctor if they don't want you to judge them on their honest, trust-worthy eyes or come-hither smile?
However, I almost instantly regretted it. I entered the office wearing a snug little electric blue Joan Holloway dress over leggings and boots. The only person who got to appreciate this was the nurse, however. When Dr. Sexy walked in, I'd been ordered to wear a paper gown, and it was some sort of cropped version. So there I was, in a paper belly shirt, leggings and boots. I looked like a Xanadu extra.
Then there was the portion of the exam in which he asked if I lived with someone. I said, "A roommate." And then he wrote something. (Why is this relevant? Is he worried I will slip in the shower, hit my head and bleed out before anyone misses me? Is this a check box on a form?) And then he moved on to "Are you in a relationship?" No, I replied. "Do you want an AIDS test?
" No thank you. "But when did you last have an AIDS test?"
Look buddy, this is not date one questioning.
About a year ago, I say.
"But don't you think we should test you, just in case?"
NO, I reply.
"Have you had sex since you had the AIDS test?"
....(insert weird, babbling, self-deprecating speech which I refuse to type here)
Also, let's just say we fall in love. He can never ask me out, no matter how funny and charming I am during my physical. No doctor/patient shenanigans, right? (Doctor friends, please weigh in.) And believe you me, he was definitely falling in love with me as I joked about my go-to physical ailments. Bunions? What's more alluring than an outgrowth on my toe knuckle that causes me pain whilst tramping around in fuck me heels? Oh, and my goiter? How about my old man back disease that was discovered during my shotput career? I'm sex on a stick!
I think the highlight of the experience was when he told me I could get dressed and I said, "Um, could you look at a weird mole I have on my back?" If that's not foreplay, I don't know what is.
Oh. And then he weighed me.
Case closed.
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2 comments:
oh thank god i thought you were preggo!
don't scare a girl like that! we need some chocotini time in our Great City b4 u bear children
Because I am lazy, I demand that you move your fabulous blog to wordpress.
Actually, a chiropractor once successfully hit on me and asked me out during/after an adjustment. He was ten years older than me, almost, and I was, like, twenty at the time. Maybe even 19. Gross, right?
In retrospect, it totally makes sense because I had no idea I was a dyke yet. I was v. confused.
Also:
1. He was a newly-hella-skinny-was-MAJOR-tubbie, flesh-colored blade of hopeless insecurity.
2. His mothers were awesome lesbians with a giant mansion in St. Helena. I should have stayed friends with them. Their guest house was amazing, with a lovely creek and everything.
3. He made me go to an ashram. AN ASHRAM. I got up at, like, 4am on New Years Day to spend the morning meditating at an ashram, for fuck's sake. The New Year.
4. That fucker was awful in bed. I know, I'm a lesbian, but STILL. It wasn't just the peen, he was FUCKING AWFUL IN BED. Motivational speaker awful.
Anyway, he was a total freakshow. He didn't even "listen to music." Just Black Sabbath sometimes in his stupid BMW, and nothing else. WTF?
What I'm saying is this: You think you do, but you don't really want your hottie doctor to hit on you. See where it'll get you?
AN ASHRAM.
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