The Psychiatrist

By Specs4ever

I couldn’t take it any longer. I was going to have to see somebody about my problem. It was consuming my life, tearing me apart, and would probably destroy me if I didn’t get some help.

I am what some people might call an optical obsessive. In as few words as I can describe this obsession in I will say that all of my life I have been fascinated and attracted to girls with high myopia. Should I spot a young female with strong myopic glasses, my body almost starts to quiver with anticipation. I will follow such a female as far as I possibly can – without getting arrested that is – to scope out their glasses. I will try any subterfuge I can think of to bump into them and start a conversation with them that might lead to a comment or two about their glasses, and their eyesight.

And as far as dating a girl wearing strong glasses, let me put it this way. I would rather remain single for the rest of my life if I could not find a girl with decently strong glasses to marry. Oh, I don’t need someone that has a -25D prescription, as nice as that might be. I would settle for a person with a decent -15D or so. They just have to wear glasses that have flat fronts, show lots of cut in, and have a lot of power rings when viewed from an angle. I have gone with a number of ladies, who have had prescriptions in this range, but in most cases something has gone wrong, and we have ended up splitting up. A couple of the ladies were keepers to me, but they both had eye surgery, and without glasses they were no longer attractive enough for me to marry them. I just don’t know what it is about waking up in the morning and being able to see the clock. I guess that since I have been able to see the clock without glasses all my life it is no big thing to me, but it seems that every nearsighted lady I have slept with complains about this every morning. What’s the big deal? There is a pair of plastic, or wire frames with thick lenses in them to correct their eyesight sitting on the nightstand. Live with it. Just put them on and look at the clock.

But finally it has reached a point where I know I have to do something about it. I am not getting enough sleep because of surfing the internet in the hopes I will find someone online. I am missing meals, and my job performance is suffering. A good friend has given me a referral to a female psychiatrist his wife used, and I have checked her out. She seems pretty good, and she isn’t all that unattractive a lady. If only she wore a pair of decently strong glasses. But wait, that is the reason I am going to see her. I have to get over this, and get on with my life

Today is my first meeting with her. I am a little nervous as I go up in the elevator, and as I approach the office door I am downright jittery. I dreamed about this meeting all night. In my dream she was wearing glasses, really thick glasses, and I fell madly in love with her. But I draw myself together, and manage to compose myself enough to go in the door and up to the receptionist, where I sign in. I took a seat, and a few minutes later I am accompanied into the inner office.

I look at her behind the desk. I know I am still having my dream. She is wearing probably the strongest glasses I have ever seen. The only difference from my dream was that in the other dream she was wearing a red frame, and in this dream she was wearing a black frame. But the lenses were the same. Thick, strong minus, and gorgeous just like the lady.

She tried to talk to me, but I just couldn’t tell her the truth. I made up some bullshit story about not being able to deal with some childhood issues. After about 30 minutes she told me that she couldn’t help me unless I was truthful with her, and she suggested that I think over what I want to discuss, and come back again next week.

I was in a fog for the rest of the day. Eventually I realized that I was not dreaming, but that this lady was one beautiful highly myopic lady. I was going to have to tell her the truth, and tell her that unfortunately she was not the one to sort out my problem, as every time I looked at her I was filled with lust, both for her, and for her glasses.

The following week when I returned I was not nearly as nervous. I was determined to tell her the truth.

“Have you decided to be truthful with me?” She asked.

“I have to be, or I will never be able to face my problem. Unfortunately, when I tell you my problem you will realize why you can’t help me. But I hope you will be able to give me a referral to another psychiatrist.” I replied.

She looked at me with a puzzled look on her face. “Don’t keep me in suspense then.”

So, I told her all. I didn’t hold anything back, and I even told her that it was impossible to concentrate when I looked at her, as she was so beautiful in her glasses that it took my breath away. When I finished she didn’t say anything for a minute. She just took off her glasses and stared vacantly into space.

Finally she spoke. “Yes, I can see how you feel that I might not be the one to help you. But maybe if I can’t help you professionally I might be able to help you privately. Actually we might be able to help each other.”

I didn’t follow what she had said for a few seconds, and then it dawned on me. “Would you go out with me, knowing what you know about my obsession?”

“Yes I would. All my life I have felt very insecure about my poor eyesight and my thick glasses. I wore contacts for years, and I thought I had overcome my insecurities, but 3 weeks ago my eye doctor told me that I had to quit wearing my contacts. I have been tested for various types of surgeries, but I am not a candidate, so I was devastated by what he told me. Now you come along and tell me that my glasses actually make me beautiful to you. I don’t think you are crazy, and we can help each other.”

We are getting married next weekend.

A very short story by Specs4ever

Dec 2009

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