In reply to my previous post, Anwar Sumar asks:
"Can you describe that whole flesh wound thing...how it happened"

I don't normally indulge obvious attempts to mock me but....An Indian woman (looked to be in her early 20's) and her boyfriend/husband/whatever happened to have sat next to us at the pool that afternoon. They were, in my opinion, trying very hard not to look our way and smile or say, 'hello.' It was quite obvious that the woman in question was, how should I say without seeming arrogant, taken by me.

In order to attract my attention this girl...really, she was a girl...hardly a woman! Ordered a tall coconut drink complete with an umbrella. At least that's the way I remember it. I found this a little embarassing to be quite honest. Such unashamed attempts to gain my attention went on for a good part of the afternoon.

My buddy and pal -- Anwar; normally a schmoozer himself, decided to ignore the pool-side goings-on. He even hinted that this little girl's affections for me were a figment of my fecund imagination. And if there is one thing about me you should know...I do not take lightly people calling me fecund. No sir!

Anyways, to get to the moment of the wounding of my flesh and yes, even my heart...I was coming out of the pool where I had just gone in to void my bladder. I looked up to see my admirer doing exactly that. No. Not voiding her bladder but admiring me. True, the water was dripping off my man-boobs, my taut, muscled legs carried me ever closer to my seat and lo and behold what do I see? The girl in question was sitting in the middle of an inflatable ring complete with pictures of Disney characters. How cute I though to myself. I faltered and blurted out, "That's very nice."

She mis-judged my comment as being sarcastic and made a face which could only mean that our little romance had come to an end. I was Jack Tripper caught in a comedy of errors. Mr. Furley mistook me for something I was not and what ensued was that I ended up walking into my beach chair, scrapping a whole heap of skin (two inches of it) from top to bottom off my glistening shin.

And that, as they say, was that. I hope this satisfies your need to mock me Sumar! You may want to take a gander at Anwar's encounter with a Man-Maid at the Sheraton in New Delhi here. Who's laughing now, laughing boy?