I intentionally didn’t tell my dental hygienist about us. I was waiting for the moment when I opened my mouth and she looked in, letting out an involuntary squeal of joy at the sight of my shining teeth. She was to smile blindingly and jump up off her stool to dance in rapturous glee. She would then sashay over to the hygienist in the neighboring booth and grab her hand to proceed in an impromptu, merry romp through the office, singing a ditty about the joys of her best patient.
All I got was a slide showing active anaerobic bacterial activity. And some free floss.