I, like literally every person in America, have never flossed my teeth. The last time I went to the dentist, my hygienist, for some reason, said, “I can definitely tell that you floss every day.” I replied with, “You are a horrible hygienist, but I can’t stop looking at your blue eyes because it’s the only part of your face that’s not covered up and I can’t move my head.” It’s a good thing she was mutilating my mouth at the time, or else that sentence would have been audible.
The truth is I had never before then flossed my teeth at all. Now, because of a combination of obsessive-compulsive disorder, the satisfaction of that wonderful clean feeling, and the hygienist’s wonderful eyes, I floss every night. Though I now go to bed every night with bloody gums and a sore mouth, I am confident that I am doing everything I can for my teeth, gums, and the hygienist.
I feel like I’m doing a lot in my life just to make the cute hygienist happy in five months. Do I not think ten other men have the same idea? Have any of us even thought that maybe under that mask she may be a 65-year-old man? Well, it doesn’t really matter at the moment. I actually never want to see her without that mask. If I could see those eyes for half an hour every six months, I would floss myself to death, and I think that’s what dental offices want the most.