“Sure, she was from rural Wisconsin, but she was so open to being taken. ”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s that loneliness within others I pick up on. They are alone in a crowded space as much as in an empty room. The spark has gone. They no longer feel alive. They’re usually bored and need something new.”
The psychotherapist leaned forward. She was about 55 or so. Nice looking. Botox. Some other small surgeries. But she wasn’t alone and had no idea how the patient across her could be such a sociopathic homewrecker. Especially since he was so polite and forthcoming.
“What do you see these women as?”
“Broken,” said the patient. He was about 40 and was addicted to sex. But perhaps he was addicted to being loved. He had given up trying to figure Dr. Van Dam out.
“And are you fixing it.”
“Is that a trick question? Obviously, not. I’m not delusional. Maybe I’m sociopathic when it comes to women’s emotions. Maybe I’m living something out. But no, I’m not fixing anyone. I’m a willing bandaid solution. ;”
“Do you see that as helpful?”
“She’ll get involved somehow with something or someone else. I figure I’m the safest choice after macrame. ”
Dr. Van Dam didn’t laugh. She seemed to be playing it out silently in her head. “So you call the cops on her husband. Did she tell you to?”
“No. But that’s why I’m here. I shouldn’t have done that. Thank God he had no plants in the basement that day.”
“So what now? Do you want to stop doing this to other women now that she’s back home?”
“Well, I want to feel better about what I’m doing…”
The hour was up.
Dr. Van Dam had seen this so many times. But never had she understood or even seen the patient’s point of view and sort of agreed with it. This doubt planted in her mind would have her go find another therapist for the patient.