"It's like this," I said. "Women want to have sex with me. Constantly."
Dr. Rosenberg looked at me with skepticism. "What women? The blind?"
"Married, single, tall, short, they all want me."
"And this is because?"
"I don't know," I replied. "I make them laugh. Their husbands and boyfriends just annoy them."
"Don't they understand it's normal to be annoyed by someone you're close to? If I had a dime for every time I've wanted to plunge an ice pick into my husband's eye . . . well, I wouldn't be sitting here listening to your problems."
"Now wait a minute--"
"How do you make these women laugh?" she asked. "You some kind of comedian? Not a prop comedian, I hope. I was on a date in a restaurant once and I asked the guy what he did for a living. He pulled out a tiny airplane propeller, stuck it to his forehead with a suction cup, gave it a spin, and said, 'I'm a prop comedian? Get it?' I threw my scalding hot coffee in his face."
"Actually, I'd have done the same. No, I write a blog called Evil Editor. It's for writers who--"
"You're Evil Editor? I've been a minion since forever!"
Uh oh, I thought. I looked over. She was out of her skirt and blouse, and in another two seconds would have her bra off. I decided, out of common courtesy, to wait two seconds before raising any objections.
"Don't you see?" she said. "Once one of your minions has had you, the rest won't want you. I'm solving your problem in one session. Freud never worked so fast."
"Worth a try," I said, unbuttoning my vest."
Only time will tell if she was right.