Today featured the joy of going to the dentist for a filling. Never an event to look forward to, it is made far far worse for me by the fact that I have a sexy dentist.
I mean, if there's someone sexy working in your local record shop you can talk about the music they've put on the stereo. A sexy person at the desk in the cinema obviously likes film; again something interesting, a clue to their taste, an opening of conversation. You can pop in every few days, showing that you share the great passion that employs them.
But with a dentist there is only one possible reason to go more frequently than every six months; you have crap teeth. And if the object of your desire is going to have one pernickety stipulation about any prospective lover then, being a dentist, it's surely going to be that they have nice teeth.
Even if it weren't a big deal for them, how would you get into any kind of real exchange? You get a maximum of two short sentences of talk before you have to lie there with your mouth open making gurgling noises. And even those two sentences are inhibited by the chaperone presence of the dentist's assistant, in front of whom the dentist will want to look very professional and not at all flirty.
Despite all of this my dentist managed to make me feel right in my judgement.
'How are you?' she asked when I walked in.
'Great, survived Christmas. Yourself?' I replied.
'Yeah, I'm cool'.
Cool. A dentist who describes her general state as cool. A dentist who wears trainers to work.
Be still my beating heart.
A morning in court with the Heathrow defenders
8 years ago
1 comment:
As you well know i had my teeth done by the same person I was royaly shagging, at the time. It's all the wrong way round , of course. She became my girlfriend marginally before she became my dentist, but I don't care. I shagged my dentist and you didn't. Ner Ner!!
If it makes it any better for you (and I've probably told you this before), she was a fairly lousy shag.
RA
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