Running Off At the Mouth

I quite fancy my dentist, albeit in a purely aesthetic way.  Of course he is far younger than I am but I still have an appreciation. I am just looking. It is impossible to ignore him when I have spent so much time (and money) in his proximity. Once I have checked out the lamp, the roof, the tasteful seascape on the wall and the interior of the very daggy sunglasses he forces me to wear, there is nothing else to see. My consideration of him has been intense recently due to my urgent need for a root canal and the necessity for many appointments.  He has also treated my daughter in the past.  She agrees with my assessment but places him in the hot but older category due to his application of hair products.  A fondness for hair gel does not rule him out for me.  He is good looking, well mannered, intelligent, caring and smells as fresh as a Scandinavian fjord.

Sadly, even if I were keen to make my admiration known he would never be able to reciprocate.  You are so exposed reclining on the dentist's chair, caught in the high beam of the lamp's relentless glare while he studies your teeth, and face in general, while wearing special magnifying glasses.  At my last appointment he and the nurse were chatting about these expensive glasses and about how the tooth seems to be a smooth and polished surface until you put the glasses on and all the blemishes, crevices and rough patches are brought into focus.

 This revelation caused me to squirm uncomfortably and suddenly I was cast back a good 30 years to my university days and my reading of Jonathon Swift's Gulliver's Travels.  For those of you whose knowledge of Gulliver extends only to the Land of Lilliput, Gulliver also travels to the Land of Brobdingnag which is inhabited by giants.  My recollection is vague and clouded by this mists of time but, in short Gulliver viewed  them as grotesque with their larger than life humanity and their enormous pores.

Keeping to the Gulliver theme I am with Glum (from the cartoon not the novel) on the chance of my high regard ever being returned. "It's Doomed....We'll never make it".  If the scrutiny of my magnified pores, wrinkles and blemishes hadn't dashed any chance I had  my tendency to drool would have.  The rubber sheet thing that is stretched across your face and somehow in your mouth, suffocating and causing the gag reflex to go on high alert caused me to produce an geyser-like stream of dribble which ran all down the side of my face to the back of my neck.  A fistful of tissues was produced to mop up but my humiliation was complete. It was an involuntary response which the lovely man did say was an occupational hazard but when I could finally speak intelligibly I said, "I think I could dribble for Australia."  He replied, "Yes I think you could too."