Women!A Story by Woody a man needs the help of a psychiatrist to explain why he can't keep a relationship long enough. “I’ve never had much
luck with women,” said Jeremiah Soal in a resigned note. “You’re my last
resort, Dr. Deer, at unveiling the mystery. I could tick off my numerous assets
but I don’t want to pass for a pretentious sod, if you’ll excuse my French. Suffice
it to say that I’m not just a pretty face, if you’ll allow me that expression.” Jeremiah was lying on
the couch in Dr. Noah Deer’s office, which was bathed in a relaxing penumbra. A
goose-neck lamp gave off a soft light from a corner of the room. The walls were
lined with diplomas and a giant framed picture of Sigmund Freud. “Hmmm.. Interesting,”
said Dr. Deer, in a bored voice. “Why don’t you give me a for-instance?” Dr. Deer was sitting
slightly behind Jeremiah in his swivel chair. He crossed his legs, took off his
Gooci glasses and, using his thumb and forefinger, rubbed his eyes and pinched
the skin over the bridge of his nose. Jeremiah thought a
moment then said: “It’s always the same
thing. I meet a girl, the chemistry seems to be working just fine and the next
thing I know she up and leaves with not so much as an explanation.” “Why’s that, d’u
think?” asked Dr. Deer, tapping his biro on the notepad. “Frankly, Doc, if I
knew that I wouldn’t be here, now would I? You’re the shrink, not me,” snapped
Jeremiah back, irritably. “Fair enough,” said
the Doctor, unfazed, “but I’ll have you know, Mr. Soal, that that is a
technique we, specialists, use to dredge up the most innermost thoughts.” “Oh, ok. Well, three
months ago, my one but last girlfriend, Milly or Shirley or something similarly silly ran away
with the milkman. Now, before you scoff, let me tell you that these things do
happen. Anyway, there must be something about the milkmen that makes them
irresistible to women. Milk must be good for their.. you know… their thingy.
Teeth. As it’s full of calcium, or so
the rumour goes. It must also put lead into their pencils, to put it mildly.
Bottom line, I was left in the lurch.” Jeremiah stopped
talking. He appeared to be gathering his thoughts. “Please, do go on,”
urged the psychologist, scribbling on his notepad, “tell me about your last,
ehm.. conquest.” “You twat,” “I beg your pardon?” “Yootwat. Her name
was Yoko Yootwat. Japanese.” “Ah, I see. And what
happened?” “Do you want the long
version or the short version,” asked the Shrunk (I’m tired of repeating his
name. The doctor is the shrink, so..) Dr. Deer sighed
silently, looked at his watch and answered: “Let’s start with the
short one.” “Right. I took her
out a few times and then she invited me to her house. Well, her parents’ to be
exact. And that’s the problem, I suppose. You see, her mum and dad had already
gone to bed and she let me in through the window. You’re going to find this
weird but she’d instructed me to stand under her window and call out a
particular sentence. Sort of a secret code.” “Go on, tell me! We,
psychiatrists, are not easily shocked.” “Well, I had to
shout: Yoko Yootwat, let down your s**t, I mean sheet!” Dr. Noah Deer snorted,
trying to stifle a laugh then coughed to try and cover it up. “Yesterday,”
continued the distraught man, “at precisely 10 o’clock, I was standing under
her second-floor window. There was a light on inside. I called out: “Yoko Yootwat, let
down your s**t!” "Sheet," corrected the perceptive Dr., just to show he was attentive. "Yes, that's what I meant." Three or four white
bed sheets knotted together to form a makeshift rope snaked down from the window
and I scampered up the wall. Once inside, I took off my…” “Ehm, could you leave
out the details of your erotic tryst for now, please?” the doctor cut him off. “Oh!” said J.,
deflated, “anyway, we had a great time albeit in complete silence. In the
middle of the night, I urgently needed to go to the bathroom, see. Yoko said I
could not use the bathroom as it was next to her parents' and she was afraid the
noise might wake them up. “ ‘Go do it in the
kitchen,’ she whispered.” Jeremiah fell silent. “What happened next?”
urged Dr. Deer. “When I got back, she
uttered a blood-curdling screech and threw me out the window. Thank God, I didn't break my legs. Dr. Deer’s eyebrows
shot up. “that’s strange!” he said. “Tell me about it,”
answered J., resigned. “Do you have any idea
what made her scream?” “I haven’t got the
foggiest. All I said when I got back was: Any toilet paper?” © 2016 WoodyAuthor's Note
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34 Reviews  Last Updated on January 30, 2016 Tags: relationships, women, psychoanalysis, shrink Author
WoodyMateur, Bizerte, TunisiaAboutok, time for an update I think. my old friends have come to know me pretty well, I trust so this is for the new comers. I'm a Tunisian 60-year-old teacher-cum-translator, book worm who enjoys writing.. more..Writing
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