A beautiful smile is always in style: Round Four
Have I mentioned what a terrible crush I have on Gael, code name for the ortho assistant? He’s probably reading this thinking, “I knew she was crazy! I knew it!” No man. I’m just a writer. I sensationalize all aspects of my boring daily life to feel like it’s dynamic, interesting, and literary.
Despite the incredible pain of moving and clenched teeth getting plastic chains attached to them (emphasis on incredible pain) the experience was, as always, fun, because all the guys at the office are funny. Reason number 947 why Gael is the best thing ever, in addition to his hotness and his niceness and his Bossanova: he plays the piano…
…in church.
It really could never get any better than meeting a nice international dude who’s into all types of music and fun dancing and sadistic aesthetic dental work and no medicine or drugs who is sarcastic and funny and who plays the piano in church. Were I to create a bulleted list of ideal traits in a guy, these would all be on there. Like, at the very top. Because I’m odd, and the traits I value in others are skewed a bit from the norm. Gael also put up with my quiet crying and not-so-quiet moaning as he elasticized a tooth that aches like all hell. He did a good job, considering I’m a tough patient.
Doc and I spoke a few sentences in Spanish after the madness had ended, and the assistants overheard.
“You speak Spanish?” Gael asked.
“Yeah,” I said, omitting the fact that my Spanish is terrible.
“You’ve gotta learn Portuguese,” he said.
“So I can eventually converse with our children in their native tongue?” I asked silently.
“Today’s word is ‘ciao’. You probably already know ciao.”
“Yup,” I said, turning to leave. “Boys, I appreciate all your torture today. Ciao.”
I don’t get to see them for a month! A month! What am I supposed to do with myself til then? Just casually show up at the Brazilian Cultural Center, like I’ve gone there consistently since my freshmen year of college, which was the last time I went for capoiera? Not a good plan.
So the moral of the story is moving teeth hurt like hell when touched, or tugged, or pulled by elastics and wires. The other moral is seering pain is tolerable when inflicted by a really nice funny hot guy. I’m getting a little redundant with my morals after all these ortho soliloquies, but I just want to document the little details so I’ll have something to look back on when I’m old, alone and have perfect teeth.
Word.