Freud had a couch in his office, it was situated so that his patient would face the other direction in order to "free associate." Of course this was in Victorian times and the level of repression was intense. How could anyone possibly talk about sex without relative anonymity? Welcome to the 21st century. The only couch I own is a cozy backdrop to Monday night "Bachelorette" viewing with my two daughters. Reality television would have made Sigmund blush.
Last Monday we watched the basterdly Bently manipulate Ashley's tender emotions. I refrained from commenting and listened to wisdom from the couch:
"He isn't making eye contact with her."
"Why isn't she noticing how superficial he is?"
"Look how he touches her, he is blocking her from the camera."
I suppressed my cynicism of the magic of editing, and the sensationalism of television that presumes to be real. This is great nonverbal observation! It's a stretch but could I dare hope there is some educational value to reality television?
Later in the program I heardf Free associations fly off the couch like pillows at a sleepover.
Will- "Stupid boy"
Then there was the whole concept of a roast for our newest bachelorette.
"Why is she doing this- she is too sensitive."
"What a terrible idea for a date."
"That poor audience, I hope they didn't pay for tickets."
"Are they really making fun of her boobs- REALLY?!"
I'm not sure how transferable this wisdom is for most women. Perhaps there should be a clause in the contract for future bachelorettes: "Having a roast in your honor when boys are vying for your attention may be hazerdous to your self-esteem."
How would Freud answer the question of what women want if he were sitting on our comfy couch on Monday nights? According to the wisdom in my living room, young women of today want a cute guy with a great smile who is genuine and can make a good living. He needs to be a good listener, and admit when he has done or said something hurtful . . .
And more popcorn.