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G: Hi, Dr. Fishbein. Sorry I’m late.
F: Get over it.
G: I had my screenwriting class today. My teacher hates me. I don’t know whether to stick with it or not.
F: Get over it.
G: I could quit school, and go to Los Angeles. But I’m scared of Los Angeles. And besides, Mummy said she wouldn’t pay for me to go to UCLA.
F: Get over it.
G: Of course, that’s what she said THIS week. She could change her mind like (she snaps her fingers) THAT.
F: Get over it.
G: I feel like killing myself. I went to Walgreens and bought five bottles of “Nyquil.” All I do is cry all day. I’ll have to ask Mummy for more money – for Kleenex!
F: Get over it.
G: I don’t feel like doing anything.
Nothing interests me. I don’t enjoy reading. Movies suck,
especially good ones. Books suck, especially good ones. Men suck,
especially good ones. Everything sucks, especially good things.
F: Get over it.
G: I don’t think I will ever get over Dave (not his real name) and Armadillo (not her real name). Here they are, leading this perfect golden charmed life, like something out of F. Scott Fitzgerald. His books suck, by the way.
F: Get over it.
G: But look at me -- I have nothing – NOTHING! I’ll never get married. Nobody wants me, except for guys that I don’t want! All guys suck, too. How could they be any good if they want ME?
F: Get over it.
G: He’s evil. He used me. Dave used me for a sex toy. He never loved me, he just said he did, to get me to climb into bed with him. Why was I such a fool? Why did I let myself be used?
F: Get over it.
G: I would have married Steven Spiltersteinbergen (not his real name), but he died before I made it out to Esalen. Too bad! He had money, and he was definitely low maintenance! Once a week would have kept him happy. He would have died in his sleep three months after the wedding ceremony, and I’d have gotten some of his money, maybe!
F: Get over it.
G: And the gangster guy, Chico Corleone. He loved me I think. I loved him, I think. But he took everything I had…just like every man I’ve ever known (she starts weeping).
F: Get over it.
G: There is one man, Steven (his real name) who loves me, but I don’t love him. I like him a little, that’s all. He’s broke, he’s crazy, he's a slob, and besides, he hates my guts.
F: Get over it.
G: I told Steven to get over it so we could be friends. But he doesn’t want to be my friend. I can’t even figure out why he says he loves me. He says if I wasn’t so stupid, I’d understand how he feels. But how can he love me if I’m stupid? Maybe I just don’t understand love…at all...
F: Get over it.
G: I’m middle-aged now, I’m getting old. My friends say I look like shit, especially in the wrong light. There’s so much makeup on my bathroom counter, I can’t find room for the toothpaste! You should have seen me when I was young, Doctor Fishbein. What a babe I was! What a hot bod I had! I could have married millionaires...billionaires...ZILLIONaires! But it’s not easy for me to find a good man now…not to say I’d know a good man if I tripped over one...
F: Get over it.
G: Suicide looks better every day. Suicide, alcohol, and drugs...in combination! But Mummy won’t give me a budget for drugs – at least, non-prescription drugs. If I want something, I have to charge it at Fraser’s Pharmacy or Kaune’s Foodtown. And if I spend too much money THERE, Mummy will yank that, too – like (she snaps her fingers again) THAT!
F: Get over it.
G: What’s wrong with me, Doctor? Where did I go wrong? Why have I made so many mistakes, and why do I continue to make them? And will I EVER stop crying?
F: Get over it.
Snap Out Of It!
G: That’s funny you keep saying “Get Over It,” Doctor, because that’s exactly what I told Steven (his real name) to do. He said he loves me and I told him to get over it. I thought it might help him to snap out of it. But you know, it’s not helping ME when you keep saying it...so maybe it didn’t help him, either.
F: Get over it.
G: I guess I’m lucky Mummy is paying for THIS, huh?
F: Get over it.
G: Can’t you say anything besides “Get Over It?” Can’t you get real for a minute with me, Doctor? Can’t you act like a human being? Can’t you express your real feelings to me? Can’t you make an effort to really understand me? To be honest, be kind, be real? To be a mensch?
F: Get over it. And your time’s up for today.
G: But it’s only been 10 minutes! We’ve hardly…
F: Get over it!
