I have a problem.
Five years ago, I strained a muscle in my back, which left me unable to turn my head more than a few inches to the right for a few days.
I went to a chiropractor, and before long, he fixed me up quite nicely. So nicely, in fact, that after a few visits, I started to feel looser, with a feeling of less mass in my neck and shoulders. My headaches started to lessen, and the world became a wonderful place. I was more relaxed, I felt great, and I had developed a most serious crush on the doc.
Fortunately, very fortunately, soon after I decided that I'd been adjusted quite enough, and didn't need to visit anymore. Five years passed, more or less with lots of knots in my back, but nothing I’m not used to living with.
However, because of a little flare of pain I've been feeling lately, I thought it best to have a visit again. I completely forgot about my silly little crush on the good doctor, just like I forgot how painful it is the first time he makes all my bones go boom.
But there it is; it is indeed quite hurty. I've had three visits in the last week, but I'm starting to feel oh, so much better, even though it is ridiculously painful for a few seconds every time he gives me an adjustment.
Poppets, oh God. I love him!
He's married, with two children, and it is completely inappropriate for me to even have these feelings. But what on EARTH am I supposed to do? He's handsome, rubs his face in mock frustration whenever I say something particular Mare-like, and then he lies on top of me and cracks me like an egg.
It is worth every penny.
I love him. It is the kind of love - deep, unrequited love - that deserves a heartfelt ballad just before intermission, so that you can throw back a cocktail and root for me while you wait in the bathroom queue. Root for me, dammit! I LOVE him!
At my last visit, he made me march in place while he knelt behind me with his hands on my glutes. Then he made me lie down, and because I knew what was coming, I muttered under my breath, “God help me.” He laughed and told me to keep Him out of it, because “this is between you and me.”
I mean, come on! A girl can only stand so much!
Apparently, it is quite common for people to fall for their therapeutic caregivers: doctors, therapists, chiropractors, what have you. So, you see, this is perfectly normal and you shouldn't judge me, even though I am considering putting my hand on his thigh the next time I see him. Tomorrow. At four.
Talk about getting an adjustment. Mind you, at least it's not like the time I fell in love with my optometrist. How do you answer a man who sits you in a darkened room, looks deeply into your eyes and asks you, "Is it better now? Or now?"
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