He's tall. He's educated. He's pleasant. He's ripe for a mid-life crisis.
He's my urologist and I'm fixing to have a long fruitful relationship with him. Especially since after parking in the wrong parking garage on the advice of my Garmin, exploring two floors in the wrong building per the instructions of the parking lot attendant, moving to a different parking area with free valet parking, and then exploring two more floors in the right building, I finally found his office.
My urologist has given me new pills that are supposed to "restore the flora" and a comprehensive education on how to pee better. He started on the assumption that I did actually know the difference between my urethra and my vagina and at that I was completely smitten with him.
Visiting the doctor after passing a stone and being told that I couldn't possibly know if the blood in my urine didn't come from elsewhere is not sexy at all.
Bladder support is important.