What is there to do on a Wednesday Night in the middle of a city? Bars, bowling, local author reading, or like me group therapy.

Maybe it’s because I like to talk or maybe it’s because I like to be heard, but there’s nothing like a good 3 minutes of me in front of a crowd. Clinically speaking, I’ve been diagnosed with general anxiety and dissociative disorder. Personally speaking, I classify myself as pretty normal, granted I’m also the one who thinks group therapy is better for me than one on one, so maybe there is a slight form of narcissism in there?

It’s thrilling to speaking about who or what I’ve done the whole week. From choosing the banana with the right curve to kissing that cute girl at the bar or even just laying around eating pizza in my underwear (bra off of course); the idea of being able to let someone in on the dirty little details of my life invigorates me. But when the new girl showed up to group, I wondered what my chances were that instead of picking up someone at the bar or on Tinder I could actually branch out some. If you haven’t figured it out, I’m bi. Men, women… as long as we both leave with a happy ending I really don’t care what happens. After all, I’m not falling in love with them. After three consecutive weeks of her less than “bitch face” stare, I wound up the courage to pour a cup of coffee right next to her.

So to speak the coffee in itself isn’t hot, her on the other hand, is now the reason I go back every week instead of when my self-loathing perspective took over.  Plus the dessert after is pretty creamy!

*This is part of The Bare Essentials short story series collection. Please don’t forget to subscribe for next week’s installment.*