fierce slime

One night, when I was in my fifties, they groped me at one of those parties with an open bar, a very wide sleeve and what happens in the party, stays in the party.

Yes, a guild acquaintance, full of cups and other herbs, crossed the line, took me from behind on the dance floor, stuck his tongue up to my eardrum, one paw on my hip and the other on my skirt. to the buttocks.

One, who wasn't completely sober either, gave a start between surprise and disgust, she wriggled free of the octopus as best she could and spent the rest of the evening running away from him and smiling at the shop.

No, I didn't slap him.

I didn't give it away.

I didn't ask for help.

I did not put the cry in the sky or him in his place.

I limited myself to calm down, wash off my drool, spread the word among my colleagues and agree with them on the usual: there are guys who don't know how to drink and the one who comes out slimy drools to a minimum.

The guy,

Understand me: I am neither going as a victim nor as a saint;

narrowness, the minimum.

That night there was no abuse of power by anyone over anyone.

Neither my job nor my future depended on that guy;

what's more, it may have been more dangerous to his than mine if I had sung his feat in the right place.

It didn't even cross my mind, but it's also true that if I went to the police station to report it, the police would have laughed at me to my face.

Up to here my little story of a reporter grandmother.

Years have passed and, probably, now nobody would touch me on a spree or even wanting to.

The bad news is that there are still slobbers in all trades.

The good news is that things are changing.

The other night, at the Feroz Awards, a small-time producer, at the top of everything, went overboard with several partygoers.

He touched boobs, he rubbed asses,

he stuck his tongue into other people's cocks without permission from their owners, according to the woman and the men who dared to denounce him, assuming the risk of being mocked as narrow and killjoys.

It's not rape, okay.

He's a book slobber, all right.

But no one has to tolerate what they don't want.

I'm embarrassed to even have to rewrite it.

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