How Not To Act Old

This is a first-class How Not To Act Old tip that I somehow forgot about until somebody brought it up at a Labor Day picnic.  “That’s a great one,” I said, except I didn’t have a pen, and it didn’t occur to me to make a note on my iPhone, and then I lost my iPhone at the place where we were having the picnic, and then the next day all I could remember was that there was a great HNTAO idea except I couldn’t for the life of me recall what it was.

Hmmmmmm.  Wonder what that means?

I guess it means that I spent so many hours and weeks and years of my life going to shrinks, lying or sitting on the couch and baring my soul while the other person (Hi, Angela, Carol, Jed, plus a few assorted couples and family therapists in there) nodded and murmured and analyzed, that I don’t want to admit to myself and the millions of readers of this blog that it was all a big fat waste of time, not to mention totally passe.  Not to mention, yeah, that I coulda put myself through Harvard Business School or bought a small island with the bucks I blew on psychotherapy.

And here I am, still insecure, confused, neurotic, still dreaming about weird things that don’t make any sense.  The only difference is that now nobody pretends to think my dreams are interesting.

Sometimes I think that not only did all those shrinks not help me, but that they made things worse.  Sometimes I think that not only are Freud’s theories wrong, but that they’re harmful.  The danger of the shrink-patient relationship lies in its very appeal, with the other person finding you endlessly fascinating, and showing no needs of their own besides that you pay them richly for their time and get the hell out of their space the minute it’s over.

Kind of like I imagine prostitution might spoil you for real dating, sex, and marriage.  Or maybe that’s just how psychotherapy has evolved in the face of competition from feel-good drugs and supportive life coaches.  Any shrink who’s too challenging or dark will find himself out of business quicker than you can say “How in hell did the same woman marry both Gabriel Byrne and Ron Perlman?”

Wait, I kind of veered off-piste there.  All those years of free-association can give you some really bad habits.

The point is, if you’ve got issues these days and you want to deal with them in a not-old way, get a script for Lexapro or consult a life coach.  Or book a night with a prostitute who’s got a psych degree.