"Do you think you’re attracted to emotionally unavailable women?" she had asked.
She was sure he was still enmeshed in his parents. By contrast, she said, she had made great strides in this area.
She was wise and all-knowing. He was but a helpless infant she was tiring of.
She used psychology as a weapon. She had no training in the field but she’d had years of therapy and she had read a few books.
Sunday night she’d suggested he talk things over with his therapist and then call her.
"What does your therapist say about that?"
What a common question in relationships. He feared that even he had said that, not just in his current relationship, but in previous ones.
"I’d be dying to know what your therapist thinks about that."
Oy vey!
So today he said to his therapist, "**** wants me to talk to my therapist about all this before calling her back."
She smiled.
After his session, he called her.
"Hello," she said, her voice low.
"MY THERAPIST SAYS" he announced.
There was a long pause.
"Just kidding," he says. "My therapist doesn’t say anything. I’m not doing directive therapy. She’s just interested in how I’m doing, what I’m feeling, am I being true to my feelings, am I willing to be vulnerable, had I thought about alternative courses of action, etc. She doesn’t have any grand pronouncement to make about our political and religious differences and whether or not they spell doom for our relationship."
She was quiet.
He could tell she was disappointed.
"How are you?" he asked.
"Bad," she said.
"Is it the medication?" he asked.
"No," she said.
Her voice was low. That always meant doom. Nothing good happened for him with her when her voice was this low.
It was her break-up voice.
If her meds weren’t making her feel bad, then he was.
"Let’s take a break," she said. "Let’s talk again Friday or motzi Shabbos."
"OK," he said. "Goodbye."
