sexual healing

One of the black female interns confided last night that she is severely depressed. Before residency, she was a cheerful, joy filled person. Then she entered this work environment where everything you do is criticized and people smile in your face while they stab you in the back. She has tried to throw herself in to her spiritual practice and she has seen a counselor, to no avail.

Her confessional was interrupted by a booty call: some guy she has known forever who refuses define their relationship (been there, done that, will never go back). He works the night shift at Target. He spends way too much time in her apartment while making no contribution to the rent. She even lets him drive her new car. When I asked her why she is doing this, she responded "my life is shit. Sex is all I have".

Sexual healing. Humph.

If you ask me, SSRIs (anti-depressants) are superior to booty calls. SSRIs will never leave you anxious about the status of your relationship. In fact, they will mellow your ass out for longer than the duration of an afterglow. SSRIs will never raid your refrigerator or ask to drive your car. SSRIs will never tell you that your breasts or butt is too small or that you need to hit the gym. SSRIs will never leave the toilet seat up in your own damn house. SSRIs will never give you a sexually transmitted infection.

However, my troubled intern friend feels there is a greater stigma in taking an antidepressant than allowing some good-for-nothing-but-sex Negro to pimp her ass. Go figure.