Oh, the joys of sitting in a dentist’s chair—mouth wide open, vulnerable, with a man you barely know poking around your molars like he’s mining for gold. It’s already an intimate experience, but mine took a turn for the absurdly, hilariously, and uncomfortably explicit when my dentist, Dr. Greg (not his real name, because I’m not that cruel), decided to treat my bi-annual cleaning like a TED Talk on his extramarital escapades—complete with graphic details.
Let me set the scene: I’m reclined in the chair, bib on, mouth agape like a beached fish, when Dr. Greg—who, up until this point, had been a perfectly pleasant, if slightly too chatty, dental professional—suddenly pivots from discussing my gum health to his love life. Or rather, his secret, illicit, affair-site-fueled love life, complete with positions he shouldn’t even know exist, let alone describe to a patient.
And thus began the most unhinged, inappropriate, and darkly hilarious dental appointment of my life, like on FRAMER.

Chapter 1: “So, How’s Your Marriage?” (Said No Dentist Ever)
It started innocently enough. Dr. Greg, mid-scrape, asked the standard small-talk question: “So, how’s married life treating you?”
Now, I’m a marriage counselor, so I’m used to people oversharing. But I was not prepared for what came next.
“Oh, you know,” I mumbled through a mouthful of dental tools, “ups and downs. The usual.”
“Yeah, I hear that,” he sighed, leaning back in his stool like we were at a wine bar instead of a dental office. “My wife and I… well, let’s just say the spark’s been more of a damp match for a while. You ever try one of those affair sites?”
RED FLAG NUMBER ONE: My dentist is volunteering his marital woes and his extracurricular activities while my mouth is wide open. This is not normal. This is not professional. This is the beginning of a horror story with a side of unwanted erotic education.
But before I could even process this, he dropped the bomb.
“You ever hear of Gleeden?” he asked, casually, like he was recommending a new toothpaste. “It’s fantastic. Way better than Ashley Madison. More women. Better privacy features. And let me tell you, some of these women—whew—they know exactly what they’re doing. Like this one, ‘MysteryLady69’—she had this thing where she’d—”
“DR. GREG.” I finally managed to interrupt, my voice muffled by the three fingers he had in my mouth. “I DO NOT NEED TO KNOW THIS.”
He paused, looking genuinely confused, like I’d just told him I didn’t want novocaine.
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, she had this move—”
“NOPE. NOPE. NOPE.”
“—where she’d use her—”
“DR. GREG, IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE, I WILL REPORT YOU TO THE DENTAL BOARD AND TELL YOUR WIFE.”
He laughed. LAUGHED. Like this was all just a hilarious joke and not a complete violation of every professional boundary known to man.
“Relax, it’s not like I’m giving you details,” he said, winking at me while holding a sharp dental pick.
OH, IT’S WORSE.

Chapter 2: “Let Me Tell You About My Dates” (While I Can’t Escape)
Now, I’ve had some wild conversations in my life. I’ve counseled couples through affairs, financial betrayals, and one memorable case involving a ferret and a divorce settlement. But nothing—NOTHING—prepared me for my dentist graphically recounting his Gleeden dates while I was literally trapped in a chair, unable to flee.
“So there was this one woman—let’s call her ‘MysteryLady69’—”
OH MY GOD, HE GAVE HER A FAKE NAME. This man is fully committed to this storytelling bit.
“—she was a real firecracker. Told me she was a yoga instructor, but let me tell you, the things she could do with her—”
“DR. GREG.” I finally managed to interrupt, my voice muffled by the three fingers he had in my mouth. “I DO NOT NEED TO KNOW THIS.”
He paused, looking genuinely confused, like I’d just told him I didn’t want novocaine.
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, she had this thing—”
“NO.”
“—where she’d only meet in hotel lobbies because—”
“DR. GREG, I SWEAR TO GOD—”
“—her husband was a cop, so—”
I sat up so fast the bib flew off. “I am going to need you to stop talking about your affair site dates while you have sharp objects in my mouth.”
He blinked. “Oh. Right. Professionalism. Got it.”
TOO LATE, GREG.

Chapter 3: The Aftermath (AKA My New Dental PTSD)
So, what does one do after their dentist overshares about his extramarital escapades during a routine cleaning?

Switch dentists. (Obvious.)
Tell all your friends. (Because if you can’t laugh about your dentist’s affair site reviews, what can you laugh about?)
Question every single interaction you’ve ever had with a service professional. (Is my hairstylist also on Gleeden? Does my Uber driver have a secret Tinder for married people? WHO CAN I TRUST?!)
Write a 2,000-word rant about it. (You’re welcome.)
Never look at a dental pick the same way again.

But here’s the thing: Dr. Greg wasn’t even ashamed.
Oh no. At my next appointment (yes, I still went back, because apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment), he casually updated me on his latest Gleeden adventures like we were old sorority sisters catching up over brunch.
“So, I met this other woman—‘AdventurousMomma’—she’s into—”
“DR. GREG, IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE, I WILL REPORT YOU TO THE DENTAL BOARD AND YOUR WIFE.”
He laughed. LAUGHED. Like this was all just a hilarious joke and not a complete violation of every professional boundary known to man.
“Relax, it’s not like I’m giving you details,” he said, winking at me while holding a sharp dental pick.
OH, IT’S WORSE.

Chapter 4: The Ethical Dilemma (Or Lack Thereof)
Now, I’m a marriage counselor. I’ve heard a lot of confessions. I’ve seen people at their worst, their most vulnerable, their most ridiculously selfish. But there’s something especially wild about your dentist—a man who literally has his hands in your mouth—being the one to casually admit to cheating like it’s no big deal.
I mean, think about it: This is a man who judges people’s oral hygiene for a living. He scolds patients for not flossing. He lectures us on gum disease. And yet, here he is, living his best (worst) life on affair sites, bragging about it like it’s a hobby.
Where is the self-awareness?!
Where is the shame?!
WHERE IS THE FLossing METAPHOR FOR HIS LIFE CHOICES?!

Chapter 5: The Unanswered Questions
This whole ordeal left me with so many questions, none of which I ever wanted to ask:

Does his wife know? (And if not, how does she not know? Does she also go to him for dental work? Does she sit in that same chair while he mentally compares her to “MysteryLady69”?)
How many other patients has he told? (Is this his thing? Does he bond with all his clients over infidelity?)
Does he use the same pickup lines on Gleeden that he uses to calm nervous patients? (“Just relax and open wide…”)
What does he tell his kids? (Assuming he has kids. If he doesn’t, that’s even worse, because then he’s just a lonely, cheating dentist with no one to judge him but me.)
Is this why my last filling hurt so much? (Was he distracted by a Gleeden notification?)
Does he practice his affair site pickup lines on his patients? (“You have such a beautiful bite…”)
Has he ever accidentally called a patient by his Gleeden username? (“Ah, AdventurousMomma, I see you’re due for a cleaning…”)


Chapter 6: The Silver Lining (If You Can Call It That)
Look, I’m not here to judge (okay, maybe a little). But if there’s one thing this experience taught me, it’s that you never truly know someone—not even the person scraping plaque off your teeth.
Also, it made for one hell of a story.
I now have the best icebreaker at parties:
“Oh, you think YOUR dentist is weird? Mine once gave me a play-by-play of his affair site dates while I was getting a cleaning. Including positions.”
Instant conversation starter.
And hey, at least I know I’m not the only one with a wild personal life. (Though, to be clear, mine doesn’t involve affair sites. I have standards.)

Chapter 7: The Moral of the Story (If There Is One)
So, what’s the takeaway from this absurd, boundary-less, dental disaster?

No one is safe. Not even your dentist.
Affair sites are everywhere. (And apparently, so are their users.)
If you’re going to cheat, maybe don’t tell your patients about it. (Especially while they’re helpless in your chair.)
Always floss. (Because if Dr. Greg’s love life is any indication, you never know what’s lurking beneath the surface.)
If your dentist starts describing specific sexual acts he’s performed, run.

And finally, if your dentist starts oversharing about his Gleeden account, FIND A NEW DENTIST.
(Or at least bring earplugs to your next appointment.)

Epilogue: The Last Laugh
I haven’t been back to Dr. Greg since that fateful day. (I found a new dentist—a woman, who thankfully has not once mentioned her love life.)
But sometimes, when I’m brushing my teeth, I’ll think about MysteryLady69 and AdventurousMomma and wonder:
Are they flossing?
Do they know their dentist is a menace?
Did any of them ever get a discount on their cleanings?
(If not, Greg, you’re doing it wrong.)

Final Thought:
If there’s one thing this experience taught me, it’s that life is full of surprises—some hilarious, some horrifying, and some just plain weird.
But if you ever find yourself in a dentist’s chair, mouth wide open, and he starts telling you about his affair site conquests—*complete with graphic details about who did what where—run.
(Or at least spit out the rinse water dramatically and demand a new hygienist.)
The end. (Or at least, until my next dental appointment.) Please, God, let it be normal.
I never wanted to hear the best affair sites reviewed, hear talking about cheating apps for married people and sites for having extramarital hookups and hot dates like on Reddit App.