Threesomes are really overrated, after all...
When you have metastases In the brain, you can be sure it's not coming from the brain because the brain doesn't generate cancer. Then you have three usual suspects: the skin, the kidneys, and the lungs. Since we found some weird stuff in the right lung and I also have metastases on the liver just below and on the pelvis on the same side, Kaiser Sauzé, it's probably the lung. Still, it has to be confirmed by a whole battery of tests, including one on the skin. The lung, I tell you, the lung!
So these two pretty young women arrive and ask me to strip down to my underwear. I know what you're thinking, but... No! I can assure you that in situations like this, you'd much rather be examined by two old men. I lay down on my back and they begin a thorough examination of every inch of my skin, starting with my feet, then my legs, moving straight to my stomach, then my neck and face. It's very strange. They touch what they need to check and, above all, they scrutinize me, their faces 5 cm from my body, occasionally picking up a kind of conical magnifying glass or taking close-up photos with their smartphones. They are so close that I can feel their warmth, the scent of the soap they used that morning, the subtle smell of laundry detergent coming from their clothes. Five minutes ago, I didn't know them, we had never met, and now here we are in very (too?) intimate positions. To be fair, they know how to communicate without words, using controlled gestures, a professionalism that clears up any misunderstanding about their intentions.
Embarrassment
One of them calmly informs me that she is going to inspect what is under my underwear. She lifts up the garment, examines both sides of my groin, weighs, grabs, feels, and pulls back the foreskin; in other words, the entire trio is inspected, just long enough, no more. I know what you're thinking, but... No! Your libido during these examinations is nowhere to be found, gone without leaving a trace. As a result, the situation, which would seem ideal in another context, is anything but exciting, and it gets even worse when you lie on your belly. The merry-go-round starts again, calves, knee bends, back, etc. And then one of them warns you that she's going to take a look at your butt crack. In other words, she spreads your butt cheeks to check your asshole!
At this point, if you still had any hope of forming even a normal relationship with one of these young ladies, well... it's dead in the water. After that, everyone acts like we're at a Tupperware party, with polite smiles and meaningless small talk, and then they pack up their stuff, ready to leave. Imagining myself as a dermatologist conducting this kind of examination while they scrutinized me, I asked a question I've always wondered about, and not just about dermatologists.
— Doesn't your job interfere with your relationship?
A rather cold response:
— What do you mean? I don't understand the question...
At this point, the young lady's tone had become stilted, and I should have said something like, “Never mind.” But the Judge can be a bit pushy sometimes, and I was really eager to know. Plus, at the time, I thought that by repeating my question, I would dispel the awkwardness. Pushy and naive, huh? I didn't see any harm in it. I was three times their age, and I didn't see how my question could be twisted.
— Well, I don't know, when you meet someone, don't you tend to notice everything that's wrong with their skin?
— No, not at all. (Iceberg mode: on)
Okayyyyyyy... I keep quiet, and they finally leave. M laughs, and so do I, imagining the poor dermatologist who never asked herself that question, at her next romantic date, with my stupid comment echoing in her head. Or “How the Judge ruined my relationships.”
Anyway, a little disappointment: I thought I had lots of moles? Well, no, actually, I only have one! The others are, um... something else. Basically, they're to moles what cousins are to mosquitoes. They're the color of a mole, they look like moles, but they're just Canada Dry! Disappointed, very disappointed.
