I'm Not Laughing

BEEP! “Dr. Love, your twelve o’clock is here to see you.”

“Send him in.”

Claire Love sat in her easy chair with her high heeled feet propped up and a cup of rosemary tea in her hands. The smell relaxed her senses, but not enough to keep the barrage of questions from swirling in her mind. How would she tell Alexander Percival what she needed to tell him? What would his reaction be? Would this put a strain in their therapist-client relationship? She took a sip of hot tea and closed her eyes as she waited for her client to enter her office. Just to show she was serious about trying to relax, she pressed a button on her remote and played gentle piano music on the stereo. Still not enough to put her at ease.

There was a knock on her door and upon being told to come in, Alexander Percival waddled in the room with a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand and a worried expression that equaled his therapist’s. “So what’s the emergency, Dr. Love?”

“Thank you for coming by on such short notice, Alex. Please, have a seat. Get comfortable.”

He took his gray hooded sweatshirt off and hung it across his own easy chair, complete with its own footrest. His dismal expression told the story of not being able to relax despite the cushy chair’s comfortable features. He sat with his spine hunched over and his fingers drumming on the coffee cup.

Claire placed her tea mug on the coffee table and took deep breaths as she tried to come up with the right words to say. “Alex…I want you to know that…I enjoy these sessions of ours. I really do. I enjoy learning new things about you. I enjoy giving you healing when you need it the most. Nothing will change that. However…I want to preface this by saying…I know you don’t actually have hostile feelings towards women.”

“…What? What are you talking about?”

Claire pulled an iPad out of the coffee table’s drawer and scrolled through it as she explained herself. “I went through your Twitter feed last night. I saw something there that upset me deeply. This Tweet goes a while back in your history, but it’s still there and it still gives me chills every time I read it. In this Tweet, you’re doing a parody of feminine hygiene product commercials. And…my stomach hurts reading this out loud…you said…‘If it smells like dead fish and you’re nowhere near the ocean, buy a shipping container full of…Vagisil Pussy Wipes.’”

Alex’s massive hand trembled so badly that he spilled a little bit of coffee on his blue jeans. He gave a tiny yelp and wiped the stain off with the belly of his shirt.

“It doesn’t end there,” continued Claire, swallowing a wad of saliva. “In a similar Tweet, you refer to tampons as Tampax Tube Steaks. You also refer to maxi pads as Blood Huggies.” Holding her palm against her aching stomach, she placed the iPad back on the coffee table and said, “Alex, do you see where I’m going with this? I know you have a weird sense of humor, but this goes beyond comedy. Comedy can’t be comedy if it’s not funny. These kinds of jokes will do more damage than good.”

Alex downed the rest of his coffee and tossed the Styrofoam cup in the rubbish bin. He hunched over and ran his trembling fingers through his thick brown hair. He seemed to have a more difficult time coming up with the right words than his therapist. She even detected a tiny tear dropping down where his coffee stain was.

“You know what this conversation reminds me of?” he said with a shaky voice. “It reminds me of being back in college with a creative writing professor who wanted me to submit only G-rated stuff. I couldn’t have any R-rated fun around her and she threw it in my face all the time. I gave her what she wanted…and all I got was a lousy C+ in return.” He lifted his blushing face. “I feel like you’re trying to censor me, Dr. Love. I don’t want to be censored.”

“Alex…listen to me….this is not about being R-rated, G-rated, PG-rated, or whatever. This is about using common sense. Your Tweet was buried so far beneath the rest of your history that you dodged a bullet when it came to getting backlash. But what if the wrong people saw that Tweet? What if you finally managed to find a girlfriend you liked and she read that? What if your boss read that? What if your writing became famous one day and a media outlet picked up your Tweet? Are you really prepared to defend those jokes against the ones who mean the most to you?”

Alex’s voice grew even shakier than before. “So what? You want me to ask you for forgiveness? You think I don’t know how the online mob mentality works? I could ask for forgiveness over and over again and it won’t make a difference. I could literally be on my hands and knees and it wouldn’t be enough. I gave up on asking for forgiveness a long time ago.”

Claire took a sip of tea to settle her anxious tummy. “Alex, you don’t have to ask me for forgiveness. I already forgive you. It’s not my job to cast stones at you. Unconditional love is a prerequisite for being a sex therapist. But you’re right about one thing: those other people might not be as forgiving as me. Which is why it’s important that you do something about this Tweet before everything spirals out of control.”

“You want me to delete it? Why? So that I can prove the conformists and gatekeepers of the world right? So that I can remind them that they can do whatever they want to me without resistance? This is a free country, Dr. Love. I don’t have to justify my first amendment rights to anybody.”

“That’s true. But there’s something you should know about the first amendment. It protects you from the legal consequences of free speech, not the social consequences. In other words, you won’t go to jail for anything you say as long as you don’t defame anybody. But free speech is a two-way street. If you have the right to make sexist jokes online, then your critics have the right to respond to you however they want, not the least of which is labeling you a social pariah. Alex, if you want to be in a creative field, you have to learn to take criticism gracefully.”

Claire could tell that Alex was doing his damnedest to hold back his tears and shield his red face. He shook some more as he refused to engage his sex therapist.

“Alex, you don’t hate women. I know you don’t. That’s not who you are. But when I read those Tweets, as a woman, I think to myself…I don’t feel safe around this person anymore.”

Another small tear splashed onto Alex’s jeans. It was obvious to Clare that he couldn’t stand breaking down in front of a woman whose job it was to build self-esteem. He pulled himself up and staggered towards the door.

“Wait, don’t go!” Claire pleaded. “Please. Just do me this favor.” Handing him the iPad, she said, “Delete what you’ve posted. This isn’t about censorship. This is about your life. This hatred is not worth defending. You’re better than this.”

“Better than what, exactly?” said Alex with a sniff. “Better than a C+ student who couldn’t hack it with a G-rating?”

“Please, Alex. I know you’re hurting now, but you’ll hurt even more if this joke circulates to the wrong people. Nobody’s asking you to change who you are. I’m just asking you to use some common sense. Please…delete these messages. Do it for the women in your life who trust you and love you.”

Alex’s breathing became labored as he wiped another tiny droplet out of his eyes. He kept his back to Claire as if to stall for an answer, as if this choice was the most difficult one he’d ever made. She could see that he thought his individuality was on the line and she knew nobody should have to compromise that. But in the end, Alex turned to face her without lifting his head. He reached for the iPad and sat back down to do his work. After a few more long seconds of stalling and refusing to crack, he tapped the screen a few times and handed the iPad back to his therapist.

“It’s done. The Tweets are gone.”

Claire breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Thank you so much for doing that for me. How do you feel?”

Still refusing to lift his head, he answered, “Hurt…defeated…controlled…embarrassed. I’m an English student, I should have more words for it somewhere. Humiliated…sorrowful….”

“I know you’re hurting, Alex, but whether you know it or not, you did the right thing by deleting those Tweets. You’re not a sexist. You’re just a guy who made a mistake. You don’t need to be punished for it by the online mob.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Alex’s tears came more frequently and his voice grew even shakier. Pouting sympathetically, Claire crossed the room and cradled his head in her arms. “It’s okay, Alex. It’s okay. I forgive you. Let it all out. You are an amazing human being. You are sweet. You are kind. But most of all…you are loved. After our sessions are over, I’m sure you’ll find a lovely woman who’ll agree with all of those things I’ve said.”

“Crying sucks. Goddamn, I’m such a snowflake.”

“No, you’re not. Snowflake is a derogatory term for a natural emotion. You’re just a highly sensitive person. And to be honest…I like that in a man. Now, what shall we work on today?”

The embrace was broken and Alex snorted more salty liquids up his nose while wiping his tears with his shirt sleeve. “Can I have some of that tea?”

“Of course you can, Alex.”