Dating a Few Too Many People
Geplaatst op 04-04-2025
Categorie: Lifestyle
Warning: there is some slightly inappropriate language in this post. Only a couple of words, but big words. Big. Naughty. Words. Haha.
My therapist thinks I'm dating a few too many people. And yes, this is (fortunately and unfortunately) an actual conversation that went down in my last therapy session.
Anyway, I hesitate to talk too much about my adventures going to see a shrink life coach. The more I do, the more absolutely messed up you’re all going to finally realize I am.
But… being absolutely messed up has done me well so far, hasn’t it? So why not talk about it once in a while. After all, just about everyone in the world is messed up, so maybe posts about my adventures in therapy will be the most normal posts of all.
For these posts, I will call my therapist Star. And I’ll call the *person* she’s talking to Dingo (it might be me, I’ll never tell).
Star: Remind me, how many people follow your blog nowadays?
Dingo: I don’t know, it’s not an exact number. Like 300,000. But some of those “people” might be dogs accidentally hitting the keyboard with their tails. They couldn’t all possibly be real.
Star: I’m going to be serious for a minute. Can we do that?
Dingo: Of course. I always am.
Star: When’s the last time you went on a vacation and didn’t share anything about it with your fans?
Dingo: I hate calling them fans. I prefer super peeps.
Star: <blank stare>
Dingo: I don’t know. Never.
Star: And when’s the last time you got serious with someone and kept that relationship all to yourself from beginning to end?
Dingo: Well, getting to relationship status with anyone is a bit of a miracle, so I kind of want everyone to know about it when it happens.
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Star: <blank stare>
Dingo: I don’t know. Never.
Star: And when’s the last time you did much of anything really notable for yourself that you didn’t share with your fans?
Dingo: Super peeps.
Star: Fine, super peeps.
Dingo: I don’t know. A few weeks ago I went and bought some pants and didn’t tell anyone. But everyone still somehow found out. My brother said we can’t hang out anymore because of how much money I spent on my new jeans. But he was kidding. I think.
Star: I want you to think about something. Before you leave today, I want you to really think about it.
Dingo: What’s that?
Star: You don’t have anything just for you anymore.
Dingo: Yes I do. Tons of stuff.
Star: Not really. Every time you get serious with someone, she ends up dating you and 300,000 super peeps.
Dingo: Hm.
Star: And every vacation you take, you take with Noah and 300,000 other people.
Dingo: Hm. Well. Hm.
Star: And every time you share anything with everyone, you’re doing that thing with 300,000 other people.
Dingo: Oh, I know. I don’t share when I go to the bathroom.
Star: Don’t deflect the topic.
Dingo: It’s my living. It’s my life. My life is my living. I can’t really separate the two.
Star: You don’t have to. All the time. But sometimes, you should. You need it.
Dingo: I know. But how do I do it?
Star: Next week, take Noah on a vacation somewhere. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Don’t post pictures while you’re gone. Don’t update your location or whatever it is you do. Don’t check your blog of Facebook while you’re gone. Just go and detach for one trip. What could it hurt.
Dingo: You obviously don’t know how famous I am. The world kind of revolves around me.
Star: I know, Dingo. I know.
Dingo: Rude. I was kidding.
Star: So can you do that?
Dingo: Well, I am already on a break from blogging. What could a few extra days hurt?
Star: Not only will it not hurt, I really think it will help. You can’t have 300,000 people tag along everywhere you go.
Dingo: Yeah, the slow ones will hold up the whole group, won’t they.
Star: Huh?
Dingo: I don’t know. Stupid joke. Left over resentment from hiking as a Boy Scout.
Star: You wanna talk about it?
Dingo: I already did. To my 300,000 online therapists. They all told me how to handle it. One even recommended a powerful prescription drug. Will you write out the script for me?
Star: <grimace>
Dingo: I’ll take your advice and go on a vacation with Noah and keep it all to myself like a greedy person. Can we talk about something else?
Star: It’s not greedy.
Dingo: I know. But it’s not easy. I have a social addiction, and just like drugs I hate the addiction, but I still shoot up my veins with it.
Star: That’s a little drastic.
Dingo: I can be five times more drastic. Wanna see?
Star: It’s your hour, and you tend to pay your bills, so do what you want with it.
Dingo: Yeah, that’d be some expensive seconds of being drastic. But it might be worth it.
Star: What else did you wanna talk about? We may want to jump into that while we have time.
Dingo: I need some dating advice.
Star: Okay.
Dingo: I don’t want to date guys anymore.
Star: You don’t think you’re bisexual?
Dingo: No, I am. I just prefer women, and I’m tired of everyone pressuring me to date guys equally. I like boobs. A lot. And guys don’t have boobs. Does that make me a sell-out or something?
Star: Remember when you told me you thought people shouldn’t be defined by labels at all?
Dingo: Yeah, I’m better at typing stuff than living it sometimes.
Star: Well, stop considering yourself bisexual. You’re sexual. And you can go out with anyone you like. What does that have to do with anyone else?
Dingo: I don’t know. I don’t want to eliminate guys. I just don’t want to actively pursue them. Unless they have boobs maybe.
Star: Some do.
Dingo: Oh, I know. And to each their own. I was kidding.
Star: Just stop worrying about it. Date who you’re attracted to and fuck the rest.
Dingo: Fuck the rest?
Star: That came out wrong. Way wrong. Don’t do that. Just don’t care about what anyone else thinks about it.
Dingo: I just love when you say the F-word. It makes me feel more normal and I want to giggle like a kid.
Star: I save it for those times I want to put my foot in my mouth and say the opposite of what I’m trying to say.
Dingo: Okay, I’ll work on that. I just feel so pressured sometimes. But can we talk about something else?
Star: Always.
Dingo: Not always. Sometimes you make me stay on topic. “Dan, don’t date 300,000 people at a time!” and stuff like that. Gosh, you said date who I want, and you said it right after you said not to date 300,000 people at a time. What if I want to date 300,000 people. I’m going to be in quite the mental conundrum.
Star: Don’t be a smartass.
Dingo: You’ve been my therapist for a long time. You should have clinically diagnosed me as a smartass by now.
Star: It’s in your records.
Dingo: Really?
Star: No.
Dingo: Dang. That would have been awesome.
Star: What else did you want to talk about?
Dingo: Sex.
Star: What about it?
Dingo: It’s fun.
Star: I’m glad to hear that.
Dingo: Like, really, really fun. I think doing the Insanity workout has made it even better.
Star: Oh yeah?
Dingo: I don’t know. I haven’t gotten any action for a while. But I theorize and visualize and I’m pretty sure the Insanity Workout has upped my game.
Star: You’re weird.
Dingo: I know. But you’re my therapist and you’re not allowed to say that.
Star: I’m saying it as your friend.
Dingo: Thank you.
Star: You’re welcome.
Dingo: Can I talk about something else? You didn’t care about my new sex skills as much as I thought you would.
Star: We’re about out of time.
Dingo: Fine. So, tell me more of your insights on doing everything in my life alongside my fans. I’ve actually been struggling a lot with that lately.
Star: I know. And I thought they were called super peeps, Dingo.
Dingo: Now who’s the smartass?
———–end transcript———–
sigh.
When I go to therapy I joke a lot. Being my therapist is not without its challenges.
I’m pretty sure I actually do have good stuff going on when I make it to therapy.