TheRapist

As John sat down on a leather couch in the office of Dr. Sarah Quill, a board certified psychiatrist, he felt slightly nervous. It was his first time meeting with her.

Dr. Quill: So how are you?

John: I’m good. Just a little tired since I had to get up early for this appointment. How are you?

Dr. Quill: I’m doing fine myself. Seems we’re in for a rainy week.

John: Yeah. That’s what I heard.

Dr. Quill: So what brings you by?

John: Well, I was on the website, Reddit, and so many users there kept telling me I’m toxic, that I needed a therapist, and that I should go to therapy, so that’s what I’ve been trying to do. My previous therapists were useless, but Redditors told me that I just haven’t found the right one yet. So here I am. Still looking.

Dr. Quill: OK. So why don’t you tell me about yourself?

John: My name’s John, yada yada, blah blah blah. Would it be possible to skip all this other stuff and talk about feelings? I want to talk about feelings with a therapist like they show in the movies. My last therapists were all men, and they never asked me anything about my feelings or tried to help me in any way. They just asked what I did over the weekend and whether or not I watched the football game. It was clear to me they were just trying to pass the time until I paid them at the end. I figure maybe it would be different if my therapist were a woman. I want to feel like I’m good enough. I want it to be like that scene in Good Will Hunting where Robin Williams was hugging Matt Damon and telling him, “it’s not your fault.” Only that might not be such a good idea because, honestly, I find you attractive.

Dr. Quill: Yikes! What makes you think that’s an appropriate thing to say to a woman?

John: Well, I just thought since you’re a therapist, I could be honest about my feelings. I’m just saying I think you’re attractive so we probably shouldn’t be physically intimate like that. I was just joking.

Dr. Quill: That’s toxic masculinity.

John: Telling you my feelings is toxic masculinity? I thought people like you wanted men to be more open about their feelings?

Dr. Quill: Not those feelings. Telling a woman you just met that you find her attractive is toxic. Here you are, a strange man in a room alone with a woman. You could literally rape me.

John: Well, I apologize then. It’s hard to know what’s acceptable in this progressive society.

Dr. Quill: Yikes! You sound like an incel.

John: I mean, I don’t do well with women, if that’s what you mean. I think I’m ugly and I’m insecure about my penis size. They never respond positively when I try to talk to them.

Dr. Quill: Who hurt you, sweetie?

John: Huh?

Dr. Quill: How do you expect any woman to find you attractive when you are so insecure and pathetic?

John: Well, that’s just it. I’m insecure. How do I stop feeling insecure?

Dr. Quill: It’s OK to be insecure, but just stop telling people about it. Gross. Nobody wants to hear about your insecurities, sweetie. Stop being a manbaby. Man up.

John: But those are also feelings I have. Am I not allowed to share those either?

Dr. Quill: Those are toxic, self-defeating feelings. So no, you shouldn’t share those either. You’re a straight, white male. You shouldn’t share any toxic feelings whatsoever. Nobody wants to hear about your insecurities, or your resentments, or your racism, sexism, xenophobia, transphobia, or admiration of Trump. When we say we want to stop “toxic masculinity,” we mean we want men to stop being entitled manchildren, man up, and stop expecting women to like them if they don’t bring anything to the table. And when we say we want men to be more open with their feelings, we mean we want them to be able to express wholesome feelings, like how much they admire marginalized groups and how they desire multiculturalism.

John: OK. So how exactly do I, “man up?”

Dr. Quill: What do you do for a living?

John: I’m a receptionist at a dental clinic. I earn around $11 an hour.

*Dr. Quill shakes her head.*

Dr. Quill: If you want women to find you attractive, you need to be ambitious.

John: What do you mean by that?

Dr. Quill: It means you should want to be more than a receptionist.

John: Why? The job’s OK. I don’t care about money that much. It pays my bills.

Dr. Quill: It’s not about the money. It’s about showing women you want to be successful.

John: It sounds to me like you’re saying it’s about money.

Dr. Quill: What are you saying? Are you calling me a gold digger?

John: I’m saying I’ve noticed that women in general seem to use euphemisms for wanting guys for their money. Sometimes I feel like women really only care about money.

Dr. Quill: Oh look, our time’s up.

John: But we’ve only been here 5 minutes?

Dr. Quill: Well, it’s just the first appointment. We can talk more next time. Would you like to schedule it now?

John: Uh…I guess?

Dr. Quill: Good. How’s Thursday two weeks from now at 7:30 AM?

John: I guess that works. That gives me enough time to drive to work afterwards.

Dr. Quill: OK, so that’ll be $175.

John: Wait, what? I thought that was your hourly rate?

Dr. Quill: That’s just the rate per appointment. You aren’t paying me enough for me to sit here and listen to your toxicity.

John: I’m not paying $175 for 5 minutes of talking.

Dr. Quill: And you wonder why women don’t find you attractive. Look at how you’re acting when it’s time to pay for something.

John: But I don’t think I should pay you. You didn’t help me at all. I don’t want to get another job just because it pays more. I’m not interested in gold diggers.

Dr. Quill: You agreed to the price the moment you scheduled this appointment.

John: I agreed to the hourly rate. I’m not paying you.

Dr. Quill: You’re going to pay for this one way or another.

Dr. Quill presses a button by her desk, and two men in white coats enter the room. They grab John as he tries to leave.

Dr. Quill pulls out a syringe from her desk drawer and walks over to John as he struggles in a futile attempt to free himself.

Dr. Quill: This is for your own good.

John: No! I said, no!

Dr. Quill injects a sedative in John’s ass. After five minutes pass, she pulls John’s credit card out of his wallet and swipes it.

Dr. Quill: Sign. Now.

The drugged up John relents and signs the receipt.

Dr. Quill: Maybe next time you won’t say something so toxic and gross like, “women only care about money.”