Visits to a Beige Coloured Couch
Disclaimer: Just in case you haven't realized, I don't own Gossip Girl.
Your mother swallows a pharmacy and dies so your father decides you need therapy. You strongly disagree but your trust fund is in his hands and even at the age of eleven, you understand the importance of compliance for financial support.
The shrink's name is Dr. Manley and yes, it's a man. He begins by telling you that he completely understands what you're going through with the emotions. You internally roll your eyes while keeping a smirk plastered to your face. The only way you'll believe him is if his mother or wife had decided to cure a hundred migraines at once. But they probably didn't have pills a century ago when his mother was alive and judging by the amount of flab on Dr. Manley's stomach, a wife was probably out of the question. Which chick would marry a guy who could sink the Titanic himself?
When you refer to your mother as a drugged up bitch (it slips out), he tells you that you simply have anger management problems.
Chuck Bass doesn't have problems.
You're a complicated guy and you loathe her for many reasons. It's not anger, they're rationalized feelings. He tells you that you don't loathe her and you tell him that if you were kidding, you would dress like him. You consider yourself to have an excellent fashion sense. So you suck up to your father big-time and two weeks later, the sessions are canceled.
Chuck Bass never has problems.
You fuck Georgina Sparks when you're twelve. Two years later, your father walks in on you having sex with Joanna Whitfield who mouth wrote checks that her ass just couldn't cash.
You end up having to give Bart a lecture on puberty and its effects but your hormones result in another therapist. She's got a lot less flab and a lot less brain too. Her name's Doctor Marilyn Hearst and you fuck her on her desk.
One fantasy down, infinity to go.
The session after, she tells you that you have transference; that last session happened because your emotions are being moved to her and that it's perfectly normal.
Chuck Bass only does lust, nothing else.
So you tell her that last session happened because her legs are killer and she wears her Wonder Bra jacked up to her chin and that's perfectly normal too.
Two weeks later, Bart decides that too little progress is being made, psychologically anyway. Ms. Heart's fiancé should be dazzled by her improvements in the bedroom.
Correction: Chuck Bass only does lust and pride.
At fifteen, you've developed alcoholism tendencies. You can hold more alcohol than a brewery and you've held more women than a Victoria's Secret's sale. You decide that maybe you're Casanova reborn.
When you come home smelling like a vat of liquor, Bart puts his designer-clad foot down and you're in a familiar office once again. Did all shrinks have to be so likeminded in décor?
Bart finds a good interrogator this time. She's one of those wrinkled, white haired fifty year olds who completely resistant to your sexual innuendo. You're pretty sure she's still a virgin. She tells you,
"Normal twelve year olds don't have sex."
You retort back quickly.
"It's definitely their mistake."
She analyzes you to within an inch of your life and when you refuse to let an non-sexual related word out of your mouth, she diagnoses you with trust difficulties.
Chuck Bass is very trusting.
You trust that the girls you screw won't murder you, that the alcohol you drink will numb you and that your heart will never be taken. Okay, maybe a few difficulties with trust, but you sure as hell aren't going to admit it.
You get kicked out with the threat of a lawsuit chasing you when two weeks later, during a trust exercise, you 'accidentally' grope her.
You leave Blair alone in Tuscany and you would have cheated on her if your anatomy allowed. That gets you to see a doctor who gets you to see a therapist, saying that it's all in your mind. The state of your penis is of utmost importance so you consent.
You end up telling Dr. Robertson the whole chick flick plot about beloved bitchy Blair and he nods and jots it all down in a notebook.
The shrinks have probably all together wasted a rainforest on you physiological profile.
You're all for the environment.
Dr. Robertson tells you he's glad you came to him for help. You reply that you'd prefer if he was a woman so that if your male wonders were restored, you could test them out right away. He chuckles and you decide this guy isn't that bad except for those horrific shoes he's wearing.
You two begin to discuss Blair.
"Perfectionist girl, huh?"
You snort. "Yeah."
"They're a tough breed."
"They make up for it in the bedroom."
The doc raises his eyebrows.
"They make you fold their clothes right away."
You duck your head in agreement. "You lose a little heat,"
You smirk wickedly and he laughs. If the guy was twenty year younger and didn't have the title Dr. before his name, he'd be pretty cool. Better than Nathaniel if you threw in points for the neon striped bowtie.
But he fails the test when he proclaims that you have abandonment issues from your mother's death.
Chuck Bass is issue-free.
Dr. Robertson tells you that you've been alienating people since you were eleven and that you judge people from a distance above them as if you were superior.
"You can compare me to God, Doc, but I've never made a tree."
You decide that a little Blair-in-the-bed medicine is all you need to fix his uh, situation.
You quit two weeks later.
You don't know how but with the old Bass charm, she forgives you when she's back from abroad. She's toting a new prince on her arm, but you convince her that royalty is so last season.
"Jealous yet, Bass?" She asks you cruelly.
Very much, but she won't get the satisfaction of you admitting it.
"Hardly. His Royal Highness's crown falls off once he's in the bedroom."
"What, and it belongs on your head?"
"You can be the judge of that, sweetheart."
Her eyes flash and her nostrils flare.
"Don't you call me that."
"What about Bear, or baby? You didn't have a problem with those in limos."
She turns away from you, but you grab her hand and let your tongue and lips caress her ear.
"You miss me."
"I'm good, better than Marcus."
You let your hand linger dangerously near her crotch and you kiss her on her lips, softly, then harder when she doesn't pull away. You've both missed this.
You two nearly fall over yourselves when you and Blair trample up the stairs, ignorant of anything but your lips and hands.
You' d consider this as an apology accepted.
Chuck Bass is forgiven.
"So what and who'd you do this whole summer without me?"
She questions you teasingly. You've just finished a session of your own kind of therapy where Blair-Naked has worked its magic.
"I saw a shrink." And you hurriedly add, "He was a man."
Her jaw drops and you revel in her astonishment.
"How'd that go?" You wrinkle your nose.
"Apparently I have abandonment issues. But I'm issue-free."
She snorts delicately at you.
"You're just nonfunctional and destructive."
She informs you and you kiss her the top of your head happily.
Chuck Bass is nonfunctional and destructive.
You couldn't agree more.
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