Weird but Nice

My Dentist’s name is Dr. Fine. How cool is that? He’s this mid-50s bachelor that’s obsessed with Golf and aspires to quit his job when he turns 59 and join the PGA Seniors Tour. He’s high of course – and he knows this – but a Dentist can dream, can’t he?

In his Pacific Heights apartment, he installed an indoor driving range. Even though a taut net divides a speeding golf ball from his living room wall, he told me that sometimes the ball goes through the net and lodges in the wall. He says his neighbors are not too fond of him.

We have an odd relationship. Sometime in the last 10 years, we got comfortable enough to start making fun of each other. At first it started with swearing. Once the professional ice was melted, all topics were appropriate.

Last month while getting my teeth cleaned, I grabbed my dental chart, while the hygienist was out of the room. Besides information about my teeth, it contained personal information like, “Has a 5 year old son,” “Plays in a kids band” and “Lives in Oakland.” These were used conversation starters.

At the bottom of the page was a very personal comment: “Weird but nice.” I yelled, “Dr. Fine. Fine! Come here, I’ve got something to show ya.” He was in the other room working on a patient. A hygienist yelled that he’d be right with me.

A few minutes later, he entered the room with latex gloves, a surgical mask and high powered bi-focals around his next. A pit peeved, he asked, “What? What the hell is wrong?”

Smiling, I indignantly responded, “What the hell is this?” throwing the file at him.

“What? What are you talking about?” he cried, walking back out the door.

“Hold on, look at the bottom of the page where it says ‘weird but nice.’ What the hell is that?”

I thought I had him. Dr. Fine looks at it, laughs and says, “Well, it’s true.”