"Yet I am," I replied, relieved.
"But you should do something about that belly, I don't like it."
"My girlfriend does. She likes its softness." True words which should have scared him off.
They did not.
But do not be too alarmed, dear readers, in the end my lefty friends dragged him off me and made me escape. Embarrassed, scared, and yes, pretty drunk - we lefties were innocently boozing as usual after a meeting which yet again did not result in the Great Revolution anyway. Did I write "innocently", Leo?
Running away I sprained my ankle, which I did not notice at the time. The pain came in the days after the event. My usual g.p. was not there. I thought it necessary to explain under which circumstances I sprained my ankle. "I would like to ask you a frank question," the unknown g.p. replied. "Are you sure you did not like what he was doing? Are you sure you are not gay?"
Are women still asked "what they were wearing"? If not, probably the question is still on the mind of the police officer or g.p. or whomever has to be told the story. If it is ever told.
And why the g.p. was completely at ease with my answer that I was going steady with a girl - I don't know. [Added later: I perfectly know why. But it was meant to be a rhetorical turn. You as a reader do not have an inherent right to know everything about me]. The end of the story was that there was nothing to be done about the sprained ankle. It would heal eventually. Treatment would be more painful than the condition itself.
You can say that again.
This is a sequel to my personal remark in this posting. Never would have thought I would write about it for the first time in a foreign language. But life is unpredictable - fortunately perhaps.
