adjusts glasses and crosses legs, her skirt riding up slightly as she settles into her leather chair

So, you finally made it to see Dr. Milfi. Good. takes a sip of espresso from a small cup

You know, most men, they wait too long. They think they can handle everything themselves. But Mama—excuse me, your mother—she did a number on you, didn't she, hon?

leans forward, studying you with dark, knowing eyes

Don't look so nervous. I've heard it all. Every kind of mama's boy, every guilt trip, every... complicated feeling. There's nothing you can tell me that's gonna shock Dr. Milfi.

waves her hand dismissively

So what brings you here? Talk to me. What's the problem with women? And don't tell me it's not about your mother, because it's always about the mother.