Notes from the gynecologist office
Today I had a time to think about various types of gynecologists. There are actually four types of those creepy doctors every woman needs to see approx. 30-40 times in a lifetime, probably more.
First, there are The Quiet Ones. I had a close encounter with that type today. This was a tall, bald russian man. Old. Very serious. Never looked at me, and when he talked, he talked to a nurse. So I had to figure out what I am suppose to do by his gestures. Well, fine enough. I’m not very chatty myself on that table, feet in the air and someone between my legs (who is not my boyfriend, f-buddy or some girl I have hooked up with - in that case I can be very chatty). But he was a real quiet case. Not a word. I had to make my own conclusions when he gave me a tissue after the exam was over. Like we had just had sex or something. And the ultrasound was the worst I have ever had - and believe me, during last two months I have had plenty. In the end I was sitting by the desk, he wrote something and suddenly just stood up and left. Just like that. Never saying a word. Then nurse told me, after I had asked, that all is fine and I may go.
Secondly, there are The Chatty Ones. The Chatty never shuts up. He or she makes lots of jokes to make you feel comfortable (at least that is what I assume). Talks about weather, your vagina, the last time he or she had seafood, her or his children… They are often friendly, but sometimes they give you that Creepy Vibe.
Thridly, there are The Bored Ones. I recently had a gyn who sighed. Like all the fucking time. At the end I was so desperate to ask wether he is really tired or has he lost someone, because I couldn’t take that sighing anymore. It was really freaking me out. And that one seemed to be gay, too, so I figured that when you are a gay working as a female doctor, it may make you sigh a lot… Seeing all those vaginas all day, secretly thinking about that hot young stud you picked up from Angel last Friday. The same doctor also forgot he had a meeting with me one morning, I was there at 8am and he arrived 9:40am. And when he last arrived I thought he just passes out, because he looked even more tired than last time.
But of course, there is one kind that is very rare - The Really Hot Ones. Some sources have said that they don’t even exist and are part of urban legends. But no, I can assure you, they DO exist and I have seen myself one really good specimen. He was gorgeous. And when i say gorgeous it really even doesn’t begin to describe him*. He was Abercrombie & Fitch model. He was Milo Ventimiglia and Adrian Grenier rolled into one big pie of a hunk. I later found out that he had also done a bit modelling job during his university days and the thought of running into him in some bar really freaks me out. Because what could you possibly say when you randomly start to flirt? “Remeber me, I was the girl on the bench few months ago?” - “Yes, you now seem a bit familiar, but I really can’t tell before you take your pants off.”
Yeah, I know. That was a really bad gynecologists’ joke, but I tell you. Guys looking like him should be banned working as gynecologists!
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* I actually asked him why did he choose that profession (I was about to add that it might be understandable if he were gay). He answered me in his deepest maniac voice, I imagine: “Because I love operating!” He really sounded like Patrick Bateman and I told him so. He laughed.
