So, here’s the mess. I’m a doctor, and not too long ago, I was interning in the Psychiatry department at my college. The professor I was interning under is a well-known psychiatrist—super experienced, respected, and honestly, great at what he does.

For context, I’ve dealt with mental health struggles for a while and was on medication a few years ago. Recently, I felt like I might need to go back on meds or at least get a professional opinion about it. Since I didn’t want to bring this up during OPD hours in front of my co-interns (it’s personal, after all), I asked him if he could consult me outside of OPD hours. My plan was simple: a quick, private chat for a diagnosis or prescription. Nothing more. He said, “I’ll let you know on Monday.” But Monday came and went, and I think he forgot, and honestly, I let it slide too because I got busy with rotations.

Fast forward a couple of weeks—I’d moved on to a different department by then—when out of nowhere, he calls me. I was confused because I wasn’t even working under him anymore. On the call, he brought up the consult I’d asked for and asked me to share what I was going through. I gave him a brief history of my mental health over the phone, and then I suggested we meet in person since it’d be easier to discuss properly. He said, “If you’re free now, you can come over to my place.” For context, he lives in the staff quarters, which is right next to my hostel.

I didn’t think much of it—I just saw it as an opportunity to finally get the consult done. So I went over. When I got there, he was super welcoming, and we talked at length about my mental health. He counseled me, explained why certain tendencies exist, and even shared personal anecdotes about his own life. It was a genuinely friendly and open conversation—like two people connecting on a human level.

At some point, the topic of alcohol came up, and I mentioned how it’s hard to find good alcohol in the area. He then showed me his alcohol collection. I was tempted to ask if we could drink together, but I stopped myself because, hello, he’s my professor, and this was supposed to be a consult. But then he offered me a drink. One thing led to another—we ordered food, made drinks, and decided to watch a movie. At this point, it started to feel like…a date?

A few drinks in, I casually asked why he wasn’t married (yeah, liquid courage). To which he replied, “I am married. It’s been two years, and I have a kid.” That threw me off, but we kept drinking, and the vibe was still weirdly comfortable. We talked about dating, romance, psychology, and who knows what else because by then, I was pretty tipsy. Then…we kissed. And then, well, one thing led to another, and we ended up sleeping together.

It was late, I was drunk, and I decided to crash at his place since I had to be in the wards at 8 a.m. anyway. We slept, made out a bit more during the night, and at one point, I think I called him “baby” (cringe, I know). I woke up around 6 a.m., super hungover and overwhelmed with guilt. I grabbed my stuff, mumbled some excuse about needing to leave, and went back to my hostel feeling like absolute trash—guilty, embarrassed, and honestly, still processing what just happened.

So yeah, AITK for letting this happen?

TL;DR: As a medical intern, I asked my married Psych professor for a private mental health consult to avoid discussing it during OPD hours. Weeks later, he invited me to his place for the consult. After counseling and casual conversation, we ended up drinking, talking about life, and eventually sleeping together. He’s married with a kid, and now I feel guilty and embarrassed. AITK?