i grope you

last night i went to a party. it was crowded. some people had had quite a lot to drink. others don't drink. i was introduced to a gentleman.

wait! stop! that's no gentleman! that's my wife!

ted, lets call him that, was drunk. he was older, his head was shaved, he was a bit thin, not skinny, but somehow reminded me of a question mark even though he wasn't stooped. ted was swaying as he tried to talk to me. that's how i knew he was drunk. he was a literary agent. he said one of his clients had just won a big, exciting literary award. i said congratulations. that's wonderful news. who is your client. he told me. i said, didn't that fellow write a book about the holy roman empire, i think i read part of it, it was very good. ted smiled, kind of sloppily and made these eyes that were drunken attempts at seduction. i was not drunk (in spite of having drunk a respectable share of spirits). the other way i knew he was drunk was his client, the writer of the book about the holy romans, was not on the finalist list for the big awards that were bestowed. and the author's name doesn't even remotely resemble the name of the winner. that's how i knew also that ted was drunk.

every now and then, while we had this silly conversation that he might have wee-ly taken for hayroll preamble, he'd make those drunk eyes and smile but i was not taken in by it, and then he'd reach out his hands and put them on me, my hips, slide them a bit north, and then remove. ted did this once or thrice. i was not particularly enjoying it. had it been another gentleman i might have. so i excused myself and went to find my pals who were elsewhere in the room. and then i saw this mister go up to another woman and start his drunken grope again.

in related news. i was reminded of a quote from Madeline (that most excellent series of books about the orphaned gal in Paris; in later episodes, Pepito, the son of the Spanish ambassador, enters the fray)

Please do not molest us
Your menagerie does not interest us

Mais oui!