Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Frog
What could be better than marrying a Prince? Marrying a doctor! And I was on my way. I had met a prince of a doctor!
Todd was a gynecologist. An eminent Beverly Hills gynecologist! With a thriving practice. Women from all over the city would line up in droves to see him.
It was understandable. Todd was gentle, compassionate, and incredibly good-looking. Women would take one look at his piercing blue eyes and want to lay back and spread their legs! He was a phenomenon. How often do you hear about patients looking forward to climbing into those stirrups?
But I was the lucky one. They got his bedside manner. I got him at my bedside!
Let me tell you, there are benefits to dating a “gyno.” They have trade secrets! Todd was the Captain Kirk of the sexual universe! His mission: “To boldly go where no man has gone before.” I’d yell, “More power, Scottie.” And then he’d beam me up! You know how Mr. Spock did the Vulcan Mind Meld? Well, Todd did the Vulva Mind Meld!
Of course, I treated him well, too. Knowing he looked at female anatomy all day, I would want mine to look special. So I drew tattoos on my tummy. Or wrote messages in lipstick: “Slow, dark tunnel ahead!” and “Go ahead, make my day!”
It was an exciting beginning. I kept thinking how happy my mother would be introducing him: “My son-in-law, the doctor!”
Alas, everyone knows the saying: “All good things must come to an end.” Or that other one: “Shit happens.”
It did. As time passed, Todd’s charming bedside manner was often left at the office. It seems he had a bit of a temper. Without warning, the littlest thing could set him off. One minute he’d be sweet and loving, the next he was Hannibal Lecter! I felt like he would eat me alive. I decided to talk to him about it. With the utmost tact, I said, “You’re a schizoid loony psycho! Have you thought about getting help?”
“I did,’ he responded. “I went to group therapy. I was the only one there, but I have a multiple personality.”
I would have laughed, except it was true. I was dating the male “Sybil.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t figure this out until after we moved in together. Hey, since he had a split personality, maybe he’d pay two thirds of the rent! Actually, Todd paid it all. But I paid in other ways.
Like at dinnertime. Todd and I could be having a perfectly nice conversation, then suddenly one word would send him ballistic. And he didn’t just throw a tantrum – he threw food! One night an entire plate of lasagna hit the wall!
Todd quickly calmed down, and apologized. He gave his winning, little-boy smile, “Come on, honey, that’s not me; it’s my evil twin. And look, he’s an artist!”
I stared at the lasagna-splattered wall, which now resembled a bad Jackson Pollack painting. We cleaned up in the kitchen, and made up in the bedroom.
If it had just happened once, I could have let it go. But I was beginning to see less of Todd… and more of his evil twin. His bad moods made my PMS seem like Happy Hour.
To relax, he took up a hobby: rearranging furniture – by throwing it! He hurled a lamp, chairs, and once the dining room table! That was it! I realized if I stayed with this doctor, I’d need a doctor. I flexed my pitching arm. If he could throw furniture and throw food – I could throw him out.
Question: How do you break up with a man who throws things?
Answer: By phone or fax.
And what do you say? “I met someone new.” No. “I’m going back with my old boyfriend.” Unh-unh. “I’m commitment-phobic.” (Actually, I’m evil-twin-phobic!)
Finally, I just wrote him a letter.
Seeing you has been wonderful. But I’ve realized I’m a lesbian!
Hey, why not? It made sense. If he asked why I had moved in with him, I had the answer: Hearing him talk about his patients turned me on!
So much for Dr. Todd and his evil twin – a.k.a. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Frog.
If a man has a split personality… you should be the one to split!