This story is absurd, and the leading lady featured in it is dense. No woman, thankfully, is really this dense. Before reading, I'd like to extend my deepest apologies to all mental healthcare professionals, as there's loads of junk science in here. It's just a silly story. :)
*****
Phillip Hammond, the clerk at the unemployment office, wasn't making Amanda Adams feel good about herself right now. They were threatening to cut her benefits, and with her being unable to secure good references in her field, she couldn't get past the interview process at most companies. "Mr. Hammond, please. You have seen I have been applying for work. I have been trying. Really, I have."
"Miss Adams, I am sorry, but one can only receive unemployment benefits for so long. You've applied for it six times over the past five years and this last run was for six months, the maximum length of coverage. The only way you can get financial help is if you claimed a disability."
"But I don't have one!" Amanda yelled.
"I told you, Miss Adams. You should meet with our psychologist. Considering your... uh... history, I think he could help you."
"Help me? How?" Amanda wasn't clear what the social worker meant by her history, either.
"Amanda. You have lost five jobs, all because you got involved with men at your places of employment. We have warned you time and again. I think it could be a verifiable mental issue with you, and I am only suggesting that you go see-"
"Wait a minute, Phillip!" This was no time for formalities, thought Amanda, using his first name. "Three of those guys claimed they were single. I had no idea they were married!"
"You could have googled. Check their social media history, maybe?"
She ignored him. "I believed what they told me at the time, and I can't help it, that all of them got obsessed with me. They went out of their way to get me fired, after I broke up with them."
"Getting romantically involved is circumstance enough for losing one's job. Go see Dr. Blake." Phillip held a business card to Amanda. "Or go without any possibility of getting any assistance. Maybe start applying at fast food joints?"
Amanda graduated in computer science. She had far too many loans to accept such a low paying job. "Fine!" she yelled, snatching the card.
"You get one more check from us, and then it ends," said Phillip. "I suggest you go with whatever the doctor tells you, to pick up disability payments in the meantime. If you qualify, that is."
"I have no idea what I would be disabled for."
***
Three days later, Amanda found herself standing across from the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on. Maybe early thirties, well built, tall, with full, dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She blushed as he introduced himself. "I'm Dr. David Blake. Pleased to meet you, Miss Adams. Amanda, is it? Welcome to my office. Please, sit."
"Pleased to meet you, too," Amanda said, briefly shaking his firm, strong hands.
As Amanda sat in the chair opposite the doctor, across from his desk, he spoke, "Considering my workload, I do not have a lot of time to spend with new, non-urgent care patients. My time is based on need, rather than just equal time for everyone. I reviewed your case, and discussed it with Mr. Hammond, your case worker. We work with them on many cases, not just yours."
"I see," said Amanda.
"Anyway, I am willing to write you up with an S.A. diagnosis. We can discuss whether you would like to try chemical treatments, such as we use to treat depression... or interactive therapy. Maybe both. But at this time, your case isn't that critical. I'll write up the diagnosis now, and you can set an appointment with my assistant for two weeks from now. Is that okay with you?"
Amanda was relieved the doctor was willing to write something up that would allow her to receive some income, but she was still foggy on things. "I'm sorry. An S.A. diagnosis?"
"Sexual addiction," the handsome doctor paused. "Combined with histrionic personality disorder. What we in the business term 'slut-like tendencies'. This creates a toxic environment for any workplace, of course. You can get disability payments, while you go through treatment. Once you finish, we can note it on your resume, and can help you with job placement. Your case isn't so unique, after all."
Amanda was having trouble breathing, flushed red with anger. "Did you just say I am a slut?"
"Slut-like tendencies only means that someone invests their need for validation, openly, and often. Most of them have, say, more than three partners a year, but they get off on the attention, more than the sex. It isn't necessarily nymphomania."
"You're saying because I have an active sex life, that I am a slut?"
"No, I did not say that. Although that is the very definition of the slang term, especially when it is involves multiple partners."
"So we're slut-shaming now?"
"Excuse me, Miss Adams!" barked Dr. Blake. "Let's go through the facts. You have had a sexual relationship with at least one man, in every job you have ever worked. Every time, it has led to trouble, and ultimately, termination of your employment. Would you say your actions were responsible for this, or not?"
"No! I would say having immature people, who were out for revenge, is what ended my employment at those places."
"You continue to disregard other people's feelings, even though these actions, and the results from them, have repeated themselves again and again. People get angry with you - valid or not - and push you out the door, when discovering your behavior."
"Well, it shouldn't be like that," Amanda insisted.
"But it is."
"Dr. Hammond, I am not a slut!"
"Allow me to explain, for one last time, what I mean. The reason I say 'slut-like tendencies' is due to specific behavior points. For instance, I could see that you found me attractive when you came in today."
"Dr. Hammond! I have made no such com-"
The doctor raised his hand with his forefinger up, hushing her. "Let me finish. It's okay that you find me attractive. I also find you highly attractive, but it's our personalities that separate us."
"Claiming I am a slut!" Did he really find her attractive, thought Amanda? 'Highly attractive,' did he say? Even as he spoke so degradingly of her?
"No, you're not a slut. As I said, you simply struggle with some tendencies. Continuing with my observation, you find me attractive. Understand, Amanda, that being physically attracted to someone is perfectly natural. So lets say I was at the beach. You would see me with my toned muscles, tanned skin. I possess a body you might like. It would interest or arouse you, yes?
Amanda sneered at the quack doctor, remaining silent.
"But see, you would get more pleasure by being the one barely dressed, not the other way around. Isn't that so? You crave attention, more than most other people require."
"I do no such thing," said Amanda.
"Miss Adams," sighed David. "I am a trained psychologist, and I actually specialize in sexually deviant behavior. I-"
"DEVIANT!?" screamed Amanda.
"Calm down. The point is, you can deny all you want, but you have specific markers. You can continue to deny the problem, or you can learn to change things."
"You think I would get horny, or feed off your attention, if I were half dressed? Is that all you got? That's the strength of your argument, in labeling me a slut?"
"Yes, it is my argument, but no, I am not labeling you a slut. Amanda, this is a behavior pattern I have seen many times over. You could strip right now, angry as you are, and you would still want validation. You would WANT me to be attracted to you. You would want me to be turned on by you."
As handsome as the doctor was, his personality was really turning Amanda off. "That is so fucking ridiculous," she said, crossing her arms.
"Fine. If you INSIST on having me drag it out of you, go ahead. Strip."
