>Bartender, I’ll Have Another

>Today I had to give my deposition on the car accident I was involved in a few years ago. I’ve been stressed out and depressed over the past few days at the thought of having to relive that moment in time. Plus, I didn’t know what to expect. And I thought my lawyer hated me because I just didn’t feel like dealing with this situation and was avoiding his calls over the past few months.

Nonetheless, I showed up at his office half an hour before the appointment to go over what would be happening.

He summarizes what to expect, how to answer so the stenographer can hear you clearly. Then he makes some small talk. How do you like Sacramento? Blah, blah, blah. Then he asks how old I am. 31. “So you’re 31 and not married. Do you like men?”

There I was already numb from the stress of the upcoming event and he asks me that. I can’t even remember what I said. Probably something lame like, “Of course I do, but I just can’t seem to find a good one.” It’s more like I can’t find a man available for dating much less marriage, but that’s beside the point.

We go to the court reporter’s office or whatever it was. I go through the telling of the tale. Of course, I get a weepy. I pull myself together and finish answering the questions. My lawyer and I get up and leave.

As we are outside walking to the parking lot, my lawyer says to me, “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but sometimes people who have had neck and head injuries have problems with their sex lives.”

WHAT????

My injury wasn’t even major enough to be hospitalized, why the hell would my injury effect anything in my sex life? I had a decent case of whiplash. I went to a chiropractor for treatment. Now, I’m well enough to at least manage the pain I have in my neck and shoulder. Plus, my sex life is just as nonexistent now as it was before the accident.

I try to change the subject to close the conversation and he starts talking about some pyramid scheme he has recently become involved with and wants to know if I am interested. I said sure, just so I could get the hell out of there and go back to work. It was the path of least resistance. Take a card and get the hell out.

My friend wants me to report him to the Bar or some other government agency. At this moment, I am too emotionally weary to do anything. Maybe the fire of righteous indignation will be lit wthin my soul after a good night’s sleep. Right now, I wish it would just all go away.

Don’t you just love it when strangers remind you how painfully single you are? Aside from the obvious sexual harrasment, I mean.