In Session, (27): Gods Need Therapy Too

The Lay Psychiatrist counsels a gay couple from Olympia

photo by author

As a Lay Psychiatrist I have no particular standards and a good outcome is a good income. Like a hunting hound, I follow my nose as long as it’s out front, but should it fall back in the pack, I lead with the cane. Today, as is my habit, I am observing the street from my window to get a glimpse at my two p.m. clients, just getting out of a Yellow Cab. Who takes a cab anymore, even if it is a London cab?

The short baby faced guy is so high energy he might suddenly sprout wings on his heels and fly away like a pigeon. Those sandals are as gay as anything I’ve ever seen. He must have something going for him, because his partner is a gym toned hard body, with long blonde hair, masculine mannerisms, an Armani suit. He comes from money.

The little guy introduced himself as Hermes, without elaboration, then presented his partner: “This is my husband, Apollo.” Apollo bowed slightly and smiled. His eyes were always calculating, like a fire control computer. He was graceful enough, but something of a one trick pony with the scrupulous correctness in his behavior. Hermes, on the other hand, was disarming in the way of people who assure you whatever you do, it’s not wrong. Neither is it right. It’s your invention.

Apollo went straight for the yellow chair, leaving Hermes to choose between the two matching red leather sling chairs. He stood in front of them and crossed his arms, unable to decide. He pointed for emphasis as he weighed the decision, “This one’s on my right but if I sit in it I’ll be on the left. This one’s on my left but if I sit in it I’ll be right.”

“You’ve never been right in your life,” Apollo said smoothly.

“Then I’ll move left,” Hermes said.

“Gentlemen,” I said, “let’s get to the point of your visit. Did I understand correctly that you became a couple to compensate each other’s weak side?” They both nodded silent agreement. The silence became awkward. Finally Hermes began:

“When I first met Apollo, he was a hero. Captain of the football team, homecoming king, and later on, a military man with so many ribbons they looked like a rainbow flag. I thought it was a rainbow flag or I’d never have had the courage to come on to him.”

They exchanged a fond glance.

“I’ve never really belonged to a culture in that way,” he continued. “I was an outsider, moving from town to town, no close friends. I thought I could fit into his world. Now he wants to have children and move to Palm Springs and I want to turn tricks.”

“Well, you are a trickster,” I said, “so that’s not surprising. I can see what your problem is right away. You’re trying to have a sexual relationship when it’s just not appropriate. You’re brothers.”

Apollo turned a palm up. “But we’re Greek,” he said.

“Ancient Greek,” Hermes added. “And just half bothers. But I don’t care. I’ll fuck anything that moves.”

“Don’t you have any boundaries?”

He looked puzzled. Apollo laughed. “He’s the god of boundaries.” he said. “He steps right over them without a care in the world.” He looked at Hermes and visibly softened. “On the other hand, you taught me to play the guitar.”

“Lyre.”