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My friend, who has been in psychoanalysis five times a week for the past year, puts his coffee down and glowers at me as if his analyst’s behaviour is my fault—which, given that I’m training to be a therapist and encouraged him to have analysis in the first place, perhaps it is.

“Why does she keep asking me how I feel about her? Why does it all have to be about me being late and how that denigrates her? I don’t feel anything about her for God’s sake. I pay her, I go, I talk about my stuff. What more…

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