The Perfect Life #30 by Dr. Perfect
Rescuing a Clinging Vine
Dear Dr. Perfect,
Ever since my cat was hit by a car, my separation anxiety is so bad that I follow my husband everywhere. I don’t want to miss a single moment of our life together; it’s all so fleeting.
I know this is disgusting, but I won’t let him go to the bathroom alone.
A loving, clinging vine
I sympathize with your plight, having lost my own feisty feline some years ago. He too was struck by a car, while driving, no less. He was the last pet I ever owned, excluding the 57 zebra fish.
When we lose something special, we can feel lost and afraid. This happened to me the other night when I realized I was out of brandy. I usually dip into the reserve stock when guests are over for cards or fundraisers or Eyes Wide Shut Tuesdays. One evening, I found my liquor cabinet absolutely empty, with only a dusty old bottle of Sauvignon Blanc I had completely forgot about. My guests were displeased, but not as much as I was.
What are boundaries, anyway? A girlfriend of mine insisted on using the toilet every time I was in the shower. I found such conduct weird, invasive, and annoying, but not deal-breakers. The relationship didn’t work but not for lack of trying. I expected from her the same things I expect from myself: absolute perfection.
Your husband may tire of your apparent clinginess, but don’t let that dissuade you. Life is fleeting. You could die tomorrow without warning, leaving behind a legacy of unfinished manuscripts and a closet full of Hummel figurines nobody cares about. (My boxes of Venezuelan vinyl records, however, will always hold value).
Accept the inevitability of death and the things that are beyond your control. Place a pillow over your husband’s face while he’s sleeping. After ten-seconds, remove the pillow. You’ll find that he’s alive and well and awake and scared. Ask him his opinion about vasectomies while you’re at it.
Attempt to do things on your own. Attend a coleslaw wrestling tournament. Only then, can you feel comfortable outside the dependency you’ve created. That is transcendence.
Perhaps the greatest co-dependency in modern history involves cell phones. Your unsanitary attachment to your husband and violation of boundaries seems normal compared to cellphone abuse. I promptly lock my phone into a safe when I get home at the end of a long, perfect day. This discipline has afforded me more time to focus on my passions, like canning and preserving food. I am so happy.
Where were we?
Don’t follow your husband into the bathroom. Just sit outside the door, breathing heavily until he returns. That should help with panic attacks.
I’d offer more compromises, but I just got a call from a famous actor, seeking advice. Apparently, he proposed to the woman he left for another woman after their relationship fell through. Why does he assume anyone will want him?