Six feet tall, blonde-haired, green-eyed, curvy and attractive, Dr. Margot Robertson cut an imposing figure, although her stylish pantsuit softened up her image a little bit. Born in the City of Biloxi, Mississippi, and educated at the University of Mississippi, Dr. Margot Robertson moved to the City of Boston, Massachusetts, ten years ago. These days, she held a small psychiatric practice in the South end of Boston, and also lectured in the psychology department at Northeastern University.
In her psychiatric practice, Dr. Margot Robertson had just about seen it all, from womanizing macho men with repressed queer desires to successful politicians with split personalities, housewives with murderous fantasies, and more. Still, her patient Stephen Watson was definitely a special case, and not the least for the fact that she was quietly smitten with the handsome but not too confident young man...
"Stephen, you shouldn't bother with those young Black women at your school, they're basically dumb and waste their time chasing thugs, and those thugs leave them alone and pregnant, and they end up becoming those bitter single mothers the Black community is full of," Dr. Margot Robertson said smugly, while taking off her glasses. She looked at her patient, Stephen Watson, who nodded sagely as he processed her words while sitting on the couch.
"Why must it be this way, though? I'm in college, I come from a good family, I have a good job and my own place, I'm not bad-looking and people say I'm funny, why don't they like me?" Stephen asked, and the big and tall, well-dressed young Black man shrugged his massive shoulders. The despair and anguish written all over his face gnawed at Dr. Margot's heart, though she hid her feelings behind a mask of professional detachment.
"Stephen, while it's true that girls of all races love the bad boys, Black women never grow out of that phase, they'll see a thug with a criminal record, and five brats by four different mothers whom he doesn't take care of, and they'll throw themselves at him while ignoring a perfectly good man like yourself, it's a disease in their minds," Dr. Margot replied calmly.
"I guess so, Doc, you know best," Stephen replied meekly, and Dr. Margot flashed him a knowing smile. They'd been seeing each other for three years now. Stephen Watson, the son of hard-working Jamaican immigrants and restaurant owners Luther Watson and Nicole Blake-Watson, definitely came from good stock in every way. The brother had the face of a male model and the body of an NFL player, but unfortunately he did not seem to know his own worth. That's why he wasted his time chasing skanks who toyed with his feelings...and then came to tell her about it.
"You haven't mentioned Kiana Hollander in a while, what happened with her?" Dr. Margot Robertson asked innocently, and Stephen winced and shifted in his seat. From his body language and the pained expression on the young man's handsome face, the good doctor could tell that he wasn't thrilled with where the conversation was going. Still, she simply couldn't resist...
For the past couple of years, Stephen Watson had been whining to Dr. Margot Robertson about many things. The brother complained about everything from his demanding father to his struggles at school, social struggles, not academic ones, to his issues with Black women and his self-image as an educated young Black man who refused to adhere to the thug stereotype to please today's not so bright young Black women. Still, Kiana Hollander was a sore point with Stephen, and Dr. Margot couldn't help but twist the knife...
