In a disturbing story developing out my Zoom therapy session, Nadine Feinstein Ph.D., LCSW refuses to say, “Yes, bitch!” when I tell her I got dick, leading many to question if she cares about my mental health at all.
“Nadine has helped me through a lot,” I report. “Getting laid off, my relationship with my estranged mother. But when I let her know that some dude laid pipe and my pussy was the pipe-laying station specifically, her response is disturbingly neutral.”
Experts probably agree that a “work, slut!”, “get it, girl”, or even an encouraging, “okay, turkey. Gobbledy goop!” would go a long way in creating a comfortable environment for me to share my experiences.
Unfortunately, due to her hubris, my therapist is not responsive to this sort of helpful feedback.
“Frankly, I wouldn’t use that sort of language or tone with any of my patients,” Dr. Feinstein says. “But beyond that, therapy is not about me having a response to a story or information I’m told, it’s about how you feel about what you’re sharing.”
Trying to get inside my head with this loathsome shrink jargon was pretty smart, but nothing I couldn’t see through.
“Maybe this sort of sex negative pathologizing of desire was en vogue in the age of Freud’s fucked up ass,” I said, wisely. “But it’s not going to fly for a modern practice.”
When called out directly on her sex negativity, Nadine continued to evade responsibility.
“I’m very comfortable discussing sex,” she said, and then stopped talking, leaving me to think my own thoughts, which is also malpractice.
I am remaining optimistic despite having no reason to do so.
“I will continue to pump up the energy when I tell Nadine I got dick as much as possible,” I officially stated. “I will shimmy-shake, I will woot-woot, I will even dab if that’s what it takes. Eventually, I will get a ‘yes, bitch’ out of her.”
We all wish me good luck!
