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.”
