Scene one. Therapist, Buffy, pretty dark Persian female, 27, talks with bearded Orthodox Jew, 42.
Therapist: “Do you want to connect with me?”
Luke: “Wouldn’t that be unprofessional? You won’t even tell me if you’re Jewish. How can I connect with you if you won’t tell me anything about yourself?”
Therapist: “I feel like I’m a wall you just throw stuff up against. You lie on the couch and you look up the ceiling and you rarely engage me in eye contact. I rarely feel like you are talking to me.”
Luke: “I thought that was how therapy was supposed to be.”
Buffy: “You’re supposed to connect with your therapist.”
Luke: “Oh. I feel silly. After six months of this, now I realize I’m supposed to connect with my therapist. How do I connect with you without crossing boundaries?”
Buffy: “Well, you could look at me. You could engage with me. You could respond to me.”
Luke: “Oh. I think I’d like to try this.”
***
Buffy: “I saw you walking down Robertson Blvd the other day. I almost stopped and said hi but wasn’t sure if that would freak you out.”
Luke: “It wouldn’t freak me out. Feel free!”
“So could we have coffee when my therapy is done?”
Buffy: “No. I can’t have dual relationships. Who knows? I might see you again as a client some day when I go into private practice.”
Luke: “Oh. I thought when you said you thought about stopping and saying hi to me on the street that you’d be open to coffee.”
Buffy: “No.”
