Guest blogger Maria: After months of begging my husband to go to a counselor so we could work on our relationship issues, he finally obliged. I went into the session armed and ready for victory. Then our sucky therapist blamed my "inner self" on our problems.

I was so excited when my husband - let's call him Dick - finally agreed to attend marriage counseling. We had been having problems since I got pregnant over a year ago. He was reluctant, I think, because he didn't want to be "in trouble" for his less than optimal behavior. He had no idea we'd be going to a therapist who would side with him. GASP.

You should have seen me confidently marching into this office. I had a list of incidents that occurred between my husband and I that I just couldn't wait to share with a third person. I wanted Dick to see how bad his behavior was from an outside point of view. I almost walked in with a written list, but I just memorized -- in order of importance -- what he had done wrong.

We walked in, sat down and without even asking us what we did for a living, if we had children or how long we were together, the therapist -- let's call him Bill -- asked us to explain an incident that we wanted to bring up. I started ...

I talked about how after a long day of work, I had taken our baby on a walk to the store to pick up Dick's favorite meal. When he walked in the house from work I said, "Honey? Guess what's for dinner!"

His response, "No."

I again said, "Seriously. Guess."

He again, said, "No." He then opened the refrigerator, saw the meal and said, "Oh! Lasagna!" Needless to say, I was very hurt and when I told Bill the story, it felt great to get this off of my chest.

Then, as I waited for Bill to give Dick a good talking to, he instead instructed me to ask my "Little Maria" why I cared so much about his reaction. Um. Who the F is Little Maria?

Oh. My "inner me." OK, I'll try it, "I care because he's my husband -- he's disrespectful, unappreciative and frankly -- rude! I don't want this for my life. How about that?"

Bill asked again, "But WHY does little Maria let Dick affect her?"

At this point, Little Maria and Real Life Maria were starting to get pissed at Bill the therapist. "I don't know, Bill. Why?" I waited with baited breath for his response ...

"I don't know. You'll have to ask Little Maria that exact question."

"But I did and she told me to tell what I just told you and you weren't satisfied with her Little answer." At this point it was clear I wanted to give Bill the "Little" finger. When I looked over at my husband, he was about to bust out laughing, but instead started to stick up for me -- realizing that he really was the jerk of the incident in discussion.

Say what you want about this quack deliberately intending to make Dick and I a team, but I think it's bullsh*t. I think Bill is a quack and that's what brought us together -- not some stupid method. I will admit though, that ever since that first session, Dick has been AMAZING. We went back one other time and realized we had no issues to bring up.

We are going to stop going to him and if we need to go back to therapy, we'll find someone with a different approach. We did take one clear thing away from our time with Bill. If we ever get in a fight, my husband just tells me that his "Little Dick" isn't going to let things escalate.