I met him when I was visiting his place of work with a girl friend. It was stressful because the children kept trying to steal stuff. My friend wanted to leave, but I caught a child running off with my phone, and I sort of understood the work he was trying to do. We clicked.
My friend left, I stayed, we talked, and he walked me home later that night. I put my arm around his, we looked at each other, and we were suddenly in love.
The catch: Being with him meant having to go to a dentist regularly, one that he had worked with before. The dentist's office was in Gotham City and the dentist was like a cross between Joker and The Penguin, with a face riddled with pus-filled pimples. I didn't have any cavities, but he liked to pry my mouth open and poke at all my teeth with his slimy penguin hands.
The dentist wasn't a bad person, but he was gross. He smacked his lips every time he looked into my open mouth. But my boyfriend was always in the room during my check-ups, offering moral support.
The last scene I remember left me with my mouth open, kept open by a mouth gag. The dentist was peering too closely into my mouth--again, I didn't have any cavities--and I was thinking of my new love and saying to myself, "This is so worth it. This is so worth it. This is so worth it."