What I Learned About Men in the Andrology Clinic

I'm twenty-five. On the first day after graduating from medical school, I was assigned to the men's health department.

From then on, all I saw each day was men at their most vulnerable: an accountant afraid to look at his test results, a civil servant crushed under his mother's expectations, a patient whose wife waited in the hallway after his brain surgery. The moment they took off their pants, I shed every last illusion I had about men.

Meanwhile, the blind dates my mother arranged fell apart one after another. A returnee elite looked down on my job as "undignified." A rich second-generation heir brought a resume to discuss "resource integration." A civil servant had spent thirty years being led around by the collar by his mother.

One hundred blind dates, one hundred men. I'd seen their bodies in the examination room and their disguises at the dinner table. Then I understood: those disguises are harder to treat than the pants they can take off.

This is the story of a female doctor who sees through the truth about love in a men's health clinic. It turns out the thing most in need of healing was never just the body.