I remember the first time I went to a shrink. My boyfriend at the time insisted I go since I was making him go. The difference between him and I was that he was a bipolar crazypants and I was an innocent bystander to his madness. But being the five-star girlfriend I was, I went anyway. As long as he was paying for it. [because are you kidding me? I don’t just have piles of gold bricks at my disposal to pay for pity counselling to oblige my soon to be ex-boyfriend]
[And I say soon-to-be because what am I? A saint?]
After the first five minutes, the counselor [she was a female, so…counselorette?] basically reiterated everything I had been stressing my parents out about for years. She told me I was a perfectionist and people pleaser. And then she asked me why I was like that.
And then I told her that’s what I was supposedly paying her for. my boyfriend was supposedly paying her for.
And then I left her.
And then my boyfriend suggested couples counselling.
And then I left him.