Crush

I have a crush on my dentist.  Of course, I do.  Doesn’t everyone?  Dr. Pat, who works on my neck and back once a month, has been trying to fix us up forever.  “He’s the nicest man,” she said.  “You would love him.”  In spite of the fact that Dr. Pat’s matchmaking skills are suspect, he did indeed sound intriguing, living up at the top of one of the Sewickley hills on a horse farm.  Who else but a horse person or a giant breed dog-lover would want anything to do with someone like me who owns two mastiffs, the smallest of which outweighs me by twenty pounds?  They take up the whole couch, crowd me in my bed. . . . Of course, I know his horses aren’t allowed in his living room or bedroom, but surely you get my point: another large animal fancier would accept my habits as unremarkable.

“He's the perfect man for you,” Dr. Pat said, while I lay face-down on her table, thinking, “Oh, God, what is she doing?”  I could hear her flip open her cell phone and press the keys.  What made her think I wanted a man?  I had never asked her for one.  “I’m too close to my divorce,” he told her diplomatically.  “I’m not in a good place to meet anyone just yet.”  She closed her phone, and I was off the hook.  Plus, I finally got my massage.

A few months later, I went to my own dentist for my regular six month checkup that I show up for annually.  “Why are you giving me licorice polish, instead of the bubble gum flavor that I love?” I asked, running my tongue around my mouth and grimacing.  “Dr. Patterson is retiring next month, so we didn’t see the point in ordering new supplies for such a short period of time,” the masked hygienist said.  That was the first I had heard the news.  Dr. Patterson had married someone about my age, and they wanted to kick up their heels, have a little fun.  When people reach retirement age and marry someone twenty years younger, this is what usually happens.  They may travel, or move to a little condo on a golf course in Florida, or hunker down in a cottage on a lake in North Carolina.  I know two December-May couples that retired to sailboats to wander the inland waterways, back and forth between D.C. and the Florida Keys.

Since my future husband was the only dentist’s name I had at my disposal, of course I called for an appointment to have my teeth cleaned and checked.  When I walked into his waiting room last week, I carefully examined my surroundings, looking for clues into his character.  His taste in art was unusual and stunning, with exotic paintings, batiks, and carvings hanging on the walls, and a metal sculpture of the Pittsburgh skyline that I could see in the first examining room, as I was led down the hall.  Sight unseen, I liked him immediately.  Once I was seated in my own room, tilted backward with a bright light shining into my eyes, I was pleased to notice that his hygienist used bubble gum flavored tooth polish, which meant that he was planning to stay in practice for longer than a month.

Although I was usually terrified of those nasty, metal, pick-like instruments that dentally-inclined people use for poking, scraping, and hurting, once the hygeniest had cleaned my teeth and left the room, I could hardly wait for the torture to begin, so that I could see what my new love looked like.  Semi-reclining with a bib snapped around my neck, I imagined that he was tall, dark, and handsome.  What walked into the room was short, dark, fit, and pleasant-looking, big brown eyes, strong shoulders, an easy smile, and a very confident, natural, yet professional deportment.  I sensed no stiffness or stuffy, stilted, fake cheerfulness.  He had a calm about him.  Of course, he would.  He was a horse lover after all.  Compared to all the dentists I have ever known, feared, and disliked immensely, he was the first to put me instantly at ease, in spite of the fact that I would shortly have my mouth wide open with all sorts of knick-knacks filling it and hanging off of it, making me look like a total idiot.  A striking first impression, for sure.

I had listed Dr. Pat as my referral in the blank that was labeled, Who do we thank for referring you?  I didn’t have the nerve to tell him that Dr. Pat was actually trying to fix us up, not refer me to him. I didn’t want to throw the monkey wrench of awkwardness into this surprisingly benign scene, especially since he had one of those terrible instruments in my mouth, and was pushing and dipping it around inside something that felt like a cave in a back tooth.  I decided to keep quiet and still, and let him do his dentist’s thing, before I rose from the chair, paid my bill, and left.

Imagine my delight when the receptionist called yesterday.  “Dr. Moreno has checked your x-rays, and there’s a small spot on one of your back left teeth, some decay.  I am calling to set up another appointment for him to fill the cavity.”

What kind of a person accepts this as good news?  I am mortified that I am actually looking forward to going to the dentist to have a cavity filled.  What kind of a person have I become?  Many adjectives pop into mind.  Sick, psychotic, needy, pathetic, insane, weird, and lame, to name a few.  But the word that feels the most appropriate is “curious”.  Although nothing will happen, as I am the patient and he is my dentist, and any line-crossing would be totally unethical (in spite of how easily they do it on Gray’s Anatomy), I am curious to see him again.  This makes absolutely no sense to me.  Sometimes I don’t get myself at all.

There is one terrifically, huge thing that has risen from this experience.  One really important element, for which I am enormously grateful.  It is this: it’s fun to have a crush on the dentist.  It completely neutralizes the normal dread and terror of the whole tooth checking, tooth maintenance experience.  Or maybe it’s just his soothing demeanor that I mentioned before.  Whatever.  All I know is that I’m looking forward to having my cavity fixed.  Just goes to show you, life is full of weird surprises.

Comments

MMMMMM! MMMMM! Does everything happen for a reason???????

[Louise]

Yeah. I needed a new dentist!

[Pat Chapin]

I love this thought, how to make a dental visit fun! There's a short story in this somewhere, for sure.
pat chapin

[Debbie]

This exact thing happened to me! I've been avoiding going to see one for 18 years (I'm 33) but my tooth broke and I was in pain. What a nice surprise to have a good looking guy, strong, confident and in control, to fix you up. I'm looking forward to my second visit...let me know if you ever talked to him more then just about teeth.

[Northridge Dental Group]

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