The TFM Summer Intern Tricked Me Into Going To Couples’ Therapy


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tfm intern couples therapy

After last week’s encounter, Wes got a ton of backlash. He was called weak, pathetic, a poor excuse for a man, a pile of human garbage, a gaping pussy, a brainless land dwelling super mammal, and that was just from his own mother. He was barraged with texts, tweets, and emails threatening him that if he doesn’t leave me alone that they were going to “curb stomp his ass” or “disown him from the family” (that was from his mom again). He looked even more defeated than he usually does, and he wouldn’t even mention my “musk” anymore. I missed him in a weird way. So when he reached out to me for help, I obliged. He needed someone to go with him to see a therapist, because the pressure was too much and he couldn’t do it alone. I could feel his soul pleading for companionship and understanding, and at this point, I was the only one who would make direct eye contact with him.

I drove him after work to the closest psychiatrist, and he fidgeted in the passenger’s seat the whole way. He clearly was nervous about something, but I thought it was just going to see a therapist. I reassured him that I had seen shrinks before and that it’s completely normal. When we got to the office, he begged me to come into the room with him. I tried to get him to be strong enough to go by himself, but he just wasn’t having it. I caved again, feeling the crushing guilt of being the one responsible for this mess, and went with him. We walked into the room and the psychiatrist greeted us both by name. Red effing flag. I looked around the office to find books on the shelves with titles like Getting The Love That You Want, I Love You But I Don’t Trust You, and How To Accept Love. I’m no idiot, but here I was, sitting in the office of a couples’ therapist with a guy whose general presence sparks a visceral reaction. The following is a transcript of the actual conversation that ensued.

Dr.: Now, Ali, why don’t you share with me why you think you are here.

Me: Well I thought I was here to help Wes but now I have no idea.

Dr.: Ok, then Wes, would you like to start?

Wes: Sure. I just feel like I’m the only one working on this relationship.

Me: Relationship?! Are you kidding me?

Dr.: Ali, this is a judgment-free zone. A space for both of you to speak your mind freely.

Me: Ok, well my mind is saying that I need to get the fuck out of here immediately.

Dr.: I know this must be hard to face hard times, but Wes clearly wants to give it a shot and I think you owe it to him to give him that chance.

Wes: Yeah, Ali.

Me: But–

Dr.: Wes, go ahead.

Wes: Thank you. So as I was saying, I feel like I am really putting myself out there and I’m not getting anything back.

Dr.: Ali, would you agree with that?

Me: Absolutely. Because we are not dating.

Wes: Not officially yet.

Me: No, not at all.

Wes (whispers to therapist): Not officially.

Dr.: What specifically do you feel is not being reciprocated, Wes?

Wes: I do everything I can to make her feel special. I take her on dates, I give her little trinkets that remind me of her, I–

Me: Hold on. We went to lunch together one time and he is now banned from all Chili’s because he blacked out and tried to steal a baby to make baby back ribs. And the “trinkets” he gives me are usually dead animals that he leaves on my doorstep with a note attached to it. This morning, I found a bird with a note attached to it that said “You are me tweet-heart.”

Wes (to therapist): She loves puns.

Me: Yes but I don’t like dead things!

Dr.: Well then, Ali, why don’t you talk about what kind of things you would want from Wes.

Me: Space? Peace and quiet? One night of sleep not worrying about whether or not the police are going to knock on my door and ask why I have a collection of dead animals at my front door?

Dr.: Don’t you think the police thing is being a little dramatic?

Me: Dramatic? Are you allowed to say that to me?

Wes (puts hand on my thigh): Sweetie, it’s ok. She’s just trying to help.

Me: Do not touch me.

Wes: See, this is what I’m talking about. There’s just a complete lack of intimacy.

Dr.: Ali, what would make you feel more comfortable with Wes?

Me: Are you not hearing what I’m saying?! He tricked me into coming here and has somehow tricked you into thinking that we are dating!

Dr.: Ok, Ali? I’m going to need you to chill the fuck out. This is a safe space.

Wes: I just want what is best for us.

Me: There is no “us.”

Dr.: That’s why we are here today. To try to create a sense of unity.

Me: Lady, you are insane. 80 percent of this man’s actions qualify as at least a misdemeanor.

Dr.: So he gets a slap on the wrist, it’s no big deal.

Me: I’m not worried about his reputation, I’m worried about my safety.

Dr.: From what I’ve been hearing, you are kind of a cunt to him and I think that you need to just listen to what he has to say.

Me: Did you just call me a cu–

Wes: Ali, honey, I know you are PMSing right now, so maybe we should come back another day.

Me: How do you know that?!

Wes: I’ve been studying your cycle.

Dr.: Wes, that is very thoughtful of you.

Me: Thoughtful?! That’s it. I’m out of here.

Wes: Thank you, again, doctor, we’ll see you next week.

The ride home was completely silent. I haven’t directly spoken to him in days, but a few coworkers have congratulated me on my new relationship, despite my many attempts to explain what’s really happening. They think I’ve been “playing it cool.” I just don’t know when this madness will end.

A born and raised Jersey girl, she can always be found covered in sand and pizza sauce. Her personal brand is "that girl." She prefers wine in bottles because she thinks outside of the box. Send fan mail to or by smoke signal.

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