Dissed by Dr. Phil - Part 1

Never put all your eggs in one TV show

Mm-mm...finally...just the two of us, I sighed, while dimming the lights and settling down into my black suede sofa with a cold glass of Chardonnay. It's been a long day so let's cut-to-the-chase, get turned on and see what happens.

Holding my breath and licking my lips I pulled in closer to get a better look. What?  I've waited all day to see you and I'm welcomed home with two, count them, two email messages? That's the best you can do, Charlie?

Gad, I mumbled while slumping back into the couch. I need to get a life. My friends are dating, going to parties and having fun, and I'm sitting at home alone talking to my computer. 

Well, Charles, let's see what pitiful diatribe you have for me tonight.

Right click and open --

'Hi love, it's Paulo!” the subject line read.

Hmm.  Do I know a Paolo?, I wondered, feeling a sense of excitement. With a name like P-a-o-l-o, I drooled, how could he be anything but a hunk?  Well, only one way to find out...

Click & open --

“Hi there.  Plagued by irregular bowel movements? Well, do I have good news for you!"

Grrr. Paulo my arse. Why do I always fall for stupid spam emails?, I scowled, immediately clicking the delete button.

Well, my dear, cajoled my alter-ego, Sybil. Could it be you're one lonely, desperate, woman?

Shut up, Sybil.  I'm not lonely, I argued. Maybe a little desperate – but NOT lonely.

One email left....give it your best shot, Charlie.

“You're invited to...”

Blech. It's probably another spam email giving me one more chance to order the amazing poop pills. Oh well, what the heck....

Click and open --

“Dear Ms. Wood, as a special member of PerfectMatch.com, you are cordially invited to be a guest on ...”

Wait a minute! I shouted, leaning in closer to the monitor.  Did I just read that correctly?

“Dear...blah, blah, blah, as a member of yada, yada, yada, you're invited to be a special guest on....

Oh, Charlie! I don't believe it. I've been invited to be on the Dr. Phil Show!

The invitation went on to say that I had been selected along with several other PerfectMatch.com members to appear on a very special Dr. Phil Valentine's Day show. The focus, of course, would be internet dating and the email guaranteed to hook us up on the show with our perfect match.

Brimming over with excitement I immediately emailed back to say that I would be delighted to appear and agreed to be at Paramount Studios in Hollywood on Monday at 8:00am.

Oh no!, I gasped, when it dawned on me that it was already Friday evening. How will I ever find time to buy new clothes, shoes and make it to the hairdresser all by Sunday evening. I absolutely refuse to make a complete fool of myself in front of Dr. Phil and millions of viewers with tired old rags on my back. Maybe I better reconsider and stay home. I'm just a big mess, I moaned dejectedly, while taking another gulp of wine.

Hey, Stupid! Listen up!

Criminitly, Sybil, I mumbled into my glass.  Can't I have a few moments of self-pity without you always showing up?  Whenever I gear up for a real good pity party, you always appear and ruin the fun.

I don't care if you go naked, you're going on that show, Sybil warned in no uncertain terms. I am sick and tired of watching you mope around the house always complaining that you never have a date. So get in there and find something to wear.

Grumbling, I got up from my cozy little spot on the couch and sulked into the bedroom. Pouting like a scolded child, I slid open the closet doors and began rummaging through the pitiful contents of my so-called wardrobe.

Stripes?, I wondered. No. Stripes are taboo on TV. I know!  My pink blouse with the ruffles, I happily decided, holding it up in front of the mirror.

You've got to be kidding me, right? Ruffles make you look fat and stupid.

Ah, Sybil. I can always count on you to keep me humble.

Okay - here we go. How about this one? My favorite black slinky blouse with the scoop neck. Black is good. It sets off my blond hair.

Yeah, smirked Sybil, but you've got PMS so black makes you look old and dead.

Too bad, I said, glaring back into the mirror. I'll take my chances. Black it is.

An hour later with shoes and accessories selected, I snuggled into bed musing about my perfect match. I wonder what he'll look like? Will he like me? Will it be love at first sight? Will we get married? This is truly going to be an incredible experience. One I will never forget.

Oh...you have no idea, I thought I heard Sybil whisper as I fell fast asleep.

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