Every time I look at the photos of the new interns in the hospital, I have to remind myself: You’re not going to see anyone you know anymore. Still I can’t help it. I’ll see someone who reminds me of someone else back from medical residency, those crazy naive years. Then it hits me that ten years was a long time ago.

I admit, I look for the pretty ones first, out of habit. Back in medschool or residency, you’d always look for the good-looking people and hope they were your senior resident for one of your rotations. That quickly changed as you realized “nice and fair” was a much preferable quality in a slavemaster.

Dating was not uncommon among doctors-in-training but not as common as people would think from lame medical dramas. There was an affair between two married residents that led to two divorces and one new marriage. There was dating (and marriage) between an older female attending and a male resident (As Seen On TV). That just boggled my mind back then. Like a student dating his teacher. There was the scandal of a male attending making advances toward a female resident. Scandalous because the male attending was married to a debilitated wife, and moreso because the female in question was so freaked out by it that she left the program.

Then there’s flirting. Trying to impress some lovely doe-legged student who’s trying to impress you as well. I may write like a drunken sailor on shore leave and an overdose of Viagra at times but in person - I’m kind of a prude when it comes to flirting. It just leads to guilt, or confusion, or dissatisfaction, or clinging, or jealousy, or mixed messages - no thanks. I’m sure lots of normal people disagree, but I’m keeping my neurosis.

Then again sometimes by not flirting, two equally-minded people can still be flirting on the same no-flirting wavelength. There are still signals, pheromones, attentive stares that aren’t so voluntary. Airy hair, broad smiles, a soothing voice…. Just a part of being couped up with an attractive person for thirty-six hours at a time in a stressful environment. It’s called “God’s testing you,” or biology’s prime directive, or just being alive.

I’m just glad I survived all that emotional miasma with an unburdened heart, a clear conscience, and the best woman I have ever met. Love does conquer all in my case.

Still, sometimes I look … back.

And thank goodness that I’m so fucking antisocial.

______________________________

I’VE HAD TO WORK MUCH HARDER THAN THIS

I used to love that song by Madonna, “Open Your Heart,” back in 1987. Madonna was still just hot without all the crazy baggage. I was 17 years old and would listen to it on repeat mode. The whole time wondering why didn’t anyone feel like that about me?

That little dance at the end in the bowler hat and rolled up sleeves kind of turned me off though.

The song still makes me happy, even on this side of the whole mystery of love equation.