The flossy-flossy

In a few minutes I'm heading out to my semi-annual teef cleaning at the dentist. I already know how it's going to go because it's always a variation on the same experience.

I'll enter, joke around with the hilarious receptionist and wait for a little blonde girl to appear. She's the dental hygienist who does most of the dirty work. Then "my" dentist will enter to do a final inspection and some touch-ups. And every time it's the same thing - I need to floss more. I don't know why I am averse to flossing every night. I try to do it regularly, but I just can't. I even like how my teeth feel after flossing. I'm just lazy, I guess.

When I lived in DC I used to love going to the dentist. He was the most gentle dentist I'd ever encountered and he was very patient and took his time explaining everything that he was doing. Plus he had a super hot torso and lovely blue eyes and he'd spend our time together talking about how his boyfriend treated him poorly and how he should probably exit the relationship. I, of course, concurred.

This dynamic made me feel somewhat uncomfortable because the conversations were always one-sided (kind of difficult to respond when someone's hands are in your mouth) and consequently I knew a lot about him and he knew very little about me. I always wondered if he disclosed as much information about his personal life to other patients and I sort of felt that he used this time as a means of therapy.