Oral Decay

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That's right! Today's blog is an extra special smile-tacular extravaganza! Say "hi" friendly dental lobby attendant. Ok, she's more receptionist than attendant; she isn't handing out any warm towels. She does have clipboards and pens though. Oh, and a nice smile--she also says "hi."

Ok gang, be friendly, say "hi" back. Good now smile and wave. Take seats. Good, good. Now go ahead and talk amongst yourselves, just use your "inside" voices, oh, and be polite, we don't want to piss off the dentist.

See, you're here to help me through this. I've got a good dentist, but his hygienist wields a mean rock-pick. I need you to keep her honest. When she blindfolds me and cuffs me to the chair, I need you to be sure that when I scream the safe word around spit tube and gum impaler, she honors my request.

I guess in that way, our relationship is just like marriage: it's all about trust. I mean in other ways it really isn't. There isn't any companionship or chair intimacy, but there are pointy-proddy things and lots and lots of trust.

Marriage, right?

Hang on, the receptionist needs me. Her name is Paula by the way.

One sec. Sing, Police "Wrapped around Your Finger" to yourself. That's what's playing here. It's perfect hold music.

"you'll be…"

…

"Servant is your…"

…

"Su-su-sudio ohh-ohh"

Sorry, that took longer than expected. It was a little more awkward than expected too. Paula wanted to make small talk. Oh, that part's fine. I'm good at small talk, it's where she went with it.

"So, how's work?"

"It's good. I'm making money. I do a blog now too. That makes a little money. Every little bit helps."

"Is your wife still working?"

My Wife? There's a computer whir as my brain searches for data. Wife? I have a wife..? MyUnwife? Didn't the dentist's office get the memo? I’m sure they're contacting her at her new address. She wouldn't have changed dentists. She likes this one. We both do. We agreed to split him…

"Uhm. I'm sorry, she's no longer with me." Oh wait, now they think she's dead. Not good. How could they not know? "She's moved on--she's in another place. She's divorcing me." I didn't mean to make her sound like the bad guy, but I didn't have any other words. I was panicked. I figured MyUnwife would approve of "bad guy" over "dead."

She'd call me in a few months and ask, "Do you know anything about why the dentist canceled my appointment?"

"Uhm, no, why?" I'd lie.

"They said you said I was dead." She'd continue, because she already knows the answer.

"Oh that, I told them you'd still show up. You'd just be less animate..."

"Dead?"

"Yeah, less animate."

So, no, I told Paula about the divorce. I didn't go into detail. It was weird again. Not because I want us together, but because I just expected the world to know. Isn't this like graduating from school? Everybody just "knows?" Like I said, I'm sure they call a different phone number for her and send mailers to different locations.

Maybe that's it. Maybe they're in the office going, "Why are they listed at 2 locations? Let's ask Rob. He'll tell us anything."

"Yeah!"

So they did. And I did. Now they know. I guess MyUnwife and I are being too quiet about this. Maybe that's the whole thing. Maybe we were supposed to be louder when it mattered.

Still, now it doesn't. I don't see any reason to get all Klaxon of Doom about this now. Speaking of Klaxon of Doom, here's the hygienist. Cover my back. I'm going in.

Remember, when she has me tied down, remind her that sometimes no means no.

What do you mean "no?" Why are you laughing..?