I’m pretty sure I haven’t told this story here. If I have it was a while ago, and it’s totally relevant to my last couple of posts so I’m going to retell it.
I was young, in my early 20s. And I’d gotten sick. Really sick. One of those bizarre, mysterious (non-contagious) illnesses that land you in the emergency room and then get you admitted to the hospital for several weeks. That’s right, I said weeks.
Besides the fact that I felt like shit, I was getting more depressed with each passing day. Sure, friends and family would come by to visit. But I was trapped in the hospital. Oh, and I was NPO which means I was being fed intravenously. I wasn’t even allowed to drink water.
The only thing that kept me from losing it was that one of my doctors was totally hot. HOT! And not only that, but he would take a few minutes each day to come and hang out with me. It felt like he was flirting with me, but I couldn’t tell. For starters, I looked nasty. I was only allowed to shower every few days and I was pretty weak. He was this gorgeous, older (about 12 yrs older) doctor who could have any woman he wanted. Eventually I chalked it up to him just taking pity on me.
Jump ahead a few weeks. I got better and was released from the hospital (no, I’m not going to say what was wrong with me – too much detail). A couple of weeks after my release I had to go back for a follow up appointment with the hot doctor. I got all dressed up and made sure that I looked good. I figured that if there was any chance he really was flirting with me, I wanted him to know I was interested.
He said I looked great, but that was all. He didn’t ask me out, or even hint at it (what was I even thinking, that would have been totally inappropriate). I left feeling let down, but I wasn’t ready to give up. I went home and called information (Yeah, it was that long ago. I didn’t even know how to use a computer back then.) and got his home phone number. Luckily, he had an uncommon enough last name and I knew what neighborhood he lived in from one of our flirty chats.
And then I called him at home and asked him out. Yes, it was insanely awkward. I’d never done anything like that before. I’d introduced myself to men at bars, but never actually asked someone out. But here was this man who I liked, OK – who I had a huge crush on and who I thought might like me back. I figured we’d never see each other again as doctor and patient and that if I didn’t do something we’d probably never see each other again period. So I did something.
He said yes. Not right away. First he said that he didn’t think it would be appropriate. I said I understood and was about to hang up (and then go eat a pint of ice cream) when he said, “but as long as no one finds out it’s fine”. And so we went out. Several times. Over the course of a couple of months. And it turns out that he was actually a total asshole. Arrogant, selfish and mean. But that’s not the point here.
Since then I’ve done some equally ballsy things. Nothing quite as dramatic, perhaps. It always comes down to the same thing, though. Why not? What have I got to lose? What could I gain?No tags for this post.