When you move to a new place, it takes a while to find your "people." Not just friends or lovers, but all those people that populate a modern life. A hairdresser, a dentist, a mechanic, a vet, etc etc. The people you make appointments with. You're paying them, entrusting them with your car or your cat or your hair, so you want to find good people. A city has lots of people to choose from, but it also has lots of useless scum. It's nearly impossible to find good people without trial and error, even if you have recommendations or reviews to go on.
Finding a gyno is, perhaps, the hardest of all. Malpractice suits have driven ob-gyns out of the state, and women are left to fight for appointments with those who remain. These days, it's easier to get a table in a coveted Manhattan eatery than it is to get a qualified professional to take a peak at your vagina. And while having a personable and highly skilled specialist look things over is ideal, by now most women realize they may have to settle for anyone at all in a white coat who knows which oriface is which.
At this point I think I've gone through more gynos than lovers, but I'm hoping to find "The One" soon. The gyno with whom I can settle down with and have a monogomous relationship; the one my vagina can grow old and gray with.
Ok, so it won't exactly being going gray, considering there is nothing there to turn gray anymore. That was long ago removed by a laser and a delightful gay man named Jonathan. If you're going to have a laser fired at your Special Purpose, I would highly recommend that you entrust that laser to a delightful gay man such as Jonathan.
Anyway, wouldn't you know it, Jonathan's partner turns out to be a well-regarded gynecologist in the city. So now I have a personal recommendation for an excellent gynecologist. During the examination I will see if I can manage to avoid making an awkward joke about his partner getting me all groomed and good to go for him...something about lying naked on my back with my feet in cold metal stirrups turns me into a real comedian.
It is strange to think that both men in this couple will have seen me naked. And while I know it's absurd, I keep picturing them at the dinner table one evening chatting casually about my lady business over gnocchi and chianti.