As parents, we have an obligation to protect our daughters
from situations where unscrupulous males could prey upon them. It isn’t just some creepy guy hanging out on
the street corner who is a threat. The
creep may be a professional.
One of my daughters had lots of difficulties during her
teenage years. Our pediatrician
recommended trying a psychologist who was new in town. He told me the man had an extensive and
lucrative practice in New York City, but that his wife was originally from
Watertown and wanted to return to her roots.
They decided to maintain homes in both places. She would live in the north country, and he
would go back and forth working a day or two a week locally and the rest in New
York City. The pediatrician admitted
that he didn’t really know anything about the psychologist, but his wife was a
lovely person.
I was not going to send my vulnerable daughter to this
person without checking him out myself first, so I made an appointment with
him. On the phone he told me that he did
not normally counsel teenagers, but would meet with me and hear my concerns to
see if he thought he could help.
His office was in the upstairs of an old Victorian house
which seemed to be unoccupied except for his upstairs suite. No one was in earshot, but that didn’t
especially bother me initially. I was
seated about ten feet away from him, so I wasn’t ill at ease at first. A rapid exit was possible if necessary.
I encountered the first problem when he was insistent that I
tell him our family’s annual income. I
refused to do so, as this was none of his business. I told him I did not see it as relevant. He said he needed to know if part of our
daughter’s problem was financial insecurity.
I told him that we were comfortable and that we had no financial
worries, and in any event, we would never discuss such things with our
children. He then tried to impress me
with how much he earned yearly.
After several more minutes of discussion, he asked me the
bust size of all the women in the household….my daughter, her two sisters and
myself. I told him that had no
relevance, at which point he stared me up and down and said that of course it
did, and after all, “You are an attractive woman with no obvious physical
defects.”
So clearly, I was NOT sending my daughter to this creep and
the session was soon over. I asked him
how much I owed and pulled out my checkbook.
He told me that he could arrange for my insurance to pay for the session
by saying I had come to him for something like “life adjustment” counseling or
something similar. I said, “No, I didn’t
come for me. I came to see if you were
an appropriate person to whom I could send my daughter.”
I wrote the check and placed it on the table next to the
door. I was not about to walk up to him
and hand it to him. I was so angry that
I actually considered dropping it on the floor, so he would have to stoop to
pick it up. I have sometimes wished that
I had done that.
I reported all this to the pediatrician, who shook his head
and said, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
A few months later, I read that the psychologist and his
wife were divorced. No surprise to me.
I was so glad that I had scoped out the situation before
sending my daughter upstairs in a deserted house with an opportunistic
predator.
