Dating a surgeon

I met Doctor Douchebag on one fine October night in Paris.

Fashion Week had just wrapped and my friends and I decided to celebrate by heading to a “masked party” in the 9th Arrondissement, which, in typical blasé Parisian fashion, meant that about 10 of the 100 people jammed in 50 meters of space were wearing plastic masks that they had probably saved over from last Halloween.

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She had only one free evening per week to share with her boyfriend."So what we arranged was that I would see him on my one day off a week, and anything beyond that, he would have to come to me," says Parrott.

"If I was working a 36-hour shift, he'd come by and kiss me on the forehead and tuck me into bed."Parrott recognized that someone so flexible is a keeper, so she married him.

No, I’m talking about the bona fide miracle-workers, the surgeons, the guys with higher brain capacity and willpower and stamina than the rest of us mere mortals.

Granted, this naive generalization is exactly what got me into the predicament that we will hereby refer to as the story of Doctor Douchebag.Out of 1,000 men and women polled, 36% of women and 26% of men picked surgeons as the most datable genera of medical professional.Second place went to pediatricians, who received votes from 28% of women and 23% of men. While I couldn't do my husband's job, he couldn't do mine, either.He couldn't deal with the loneliness of being a doctor's wife. I doubt this is a statement that requires much justification: doctors are sexy, their lives serve a purpose, their selfless deeds warrant them prime real estate in Heaven that you may get to share by association.

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