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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
It was nobody’s fault really — it was just the wretched weather.
With all the recent snow, the pavements were an icy nightmare of accidents waiting to happen, and just such an accident was happening right in front of me.
A very, very attractive and well preserved lady walking in front of me slipped, and fell rather heavily and awkwardly, banging her head as she fell.
Hurrying up to her as quickly as it was safe to do so, I did my best to reassure both of us that she was as alright as she could be and not badly hurt. Having got her upright and sitting comfortably on a nearby low wall, I then did my best to find out if she was in a fit state both mentally and physically to continue on her own way under her own steam. It was when we were in the process of this verbal exploration that she suddenly burst into floods of agonisingly gut wrenching tears.
“Whatever is the matter?” I said, “Are you in pain? Does something suddenly hurt? If so, where is it and do you think I need to call an ambulance for you?”
“No, no” she replied, bakırköy escort “I really am not hurt physically in the least, but my memory seems to have really… really horrible gaps in it! I mean I’m only 53 and it really shouldn’t be playing these sorts of tricks on me… should it?”
Fifty three!
Good heavens I thought — I had mentally put her down as a toothsome twenty years younger than that from her outward appearance, and her actual age came as quite a considerable shock to me.
As I continued to talk as calmly and soothingly to her as I could, the intensity of her sobs decreased slightly, but they still gave no signs of stopping.
Eventually as I ran out of platitudes and there, there’s, I finally asked the question I should have asked in the first place.
“Tell me,” I said, “Why is your patchy memory loss causing you such distress? You do know that memory loss generally returns in full after some time don’t you, so why are you so distraught?”
“Well I’ll tell you why” beşiktaş escort she said, “I think I know how old I am, but I do not remember my name! I can remember large chunks about my day to day life, but not my date of birth. For instance, I know I’m in a wonderful relationship with this fabulously handsome and virile man. I can see every detail of him, but I still can’t remember his name!
I remember the things we do on an everyday basis — Oh God how I remember them!
Do you know we’ve been together, not married, but in a relationship for eleven years now, and every day we still wake up with our arms around one another? We still cuddle each other and take our morning showers together and then he makes me breakfast of freshly squeezed orange juice, bacon and eggs, fresh fruit salad and the most divine coffee. After the meal we go for a walk along the sea front and watch the birds foraging amongst the returning fishing boats, and buy fresh fish for lunch. After a light fish and green salad lunch with beylikdüzü escort half a bottle of Chablis between us, we retire to the bed room for some postprandial love making and a short nap. After the nap, we generally do some wind surfing and go home and freshen up before going out for an evening meal, and a bit of dancing under the stars. Most nights we’re energised enough to indulge ourselves sexually until we fall asleep exhausted.”
Listening to this story of a picture book lifestyle, and comparing it to my own rather drab and humdrum existence, made me feel more than somewhat glum, very jealous and annoyed, the longer I had to listen. Eventually the smorgasbord of such an idealised lifestyle being spread out before me, made my jealousy levels spill over, and prompted me to put the question to her as to why she was crying so hard. Did she not realise that her life left very little to be desired and that she was an extremely lucky person?
To my astonishment and no little annoyance, my (at least to my mind!) very mild comment was met with fresh floods of torrential tears and voluble weeping.
“But you don’t understand.” She wailed as a fresh paroxysm of weeping left her temporarily speechless.
“I don’t remember where I live!” she shrieked despairingly in an agonised voice.
Blimey!
What a world!
I’d have been suicidal!
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