I am sitting and crying my heart out.
‘Nice dress. Are you wearing knickers?’ he asks.
I freeze and look around. All these certificates framing his accomplishments. Am I just being dramatic and making it all up to spice up my life. Then he looks through my file, says I need help and gives me a prescription.
I go home, google it. Why would he ask out someone like that? He calls me the next night with a bedtime story. I tell him I struggle to get out of bed and that these pills do not seem to work. He says I need to give it some time.
We are in a very white and posh hotel with a fireplace and me all dolled up. It is so refreshing to be around a man who is interested in me and is able to hold a grownup conversation. He makes me feel safe. He quotes Yeats. I am absolutely sold. I have a glow.
I look him up on Google. Nothing. How is it possible? He is a doctor.
Things go well. He might be the one. He asks questions. He wants to know me and he does not judge. I am honest about my complicated relationship status. He tells about his needy wife, after few days he mentions his girlfriend. I find out he has a cancer. I am not sure if I have become numb or cynical. He has got 18 months.
It is hard to trust. I have been hurt before. Starting to believe I do not deserve love. I miss being touched.
I have been here before. I used to see this man, who ended up being my therapist and a lover. I do not remember in what order. His white apartment walls with pictures of children holding guns still give me goosebumps. He would mention his female patients. Some of them killed themselves. An absolute zero of pain in his eyes was overwhelmed by pride. One day I wanted to do a clear out of everything in my medicine cabinet. He still messages me.
I have bookmarked a page where I could tell someone about it. I am scared. I could save someone’s life.
Please do not be quiet. Speak up! One, two, three!