You, dirty pig, what have you done?

Ercoli, Viale Parioli: I’m surrounded by Parma hams and in front of me there is L., a man that wants to suck my toes. What’s the worst that can happen? Perhaps meeting the man that broke your heart in the company of another woman? Done and dusted. A. is sitting at a table right behind ours with a woman that looks like a Barbie doll. Blonde, long hair, small nose. I’m furious.

Pop Corn. L. keeps telling me his story: he pays a couple of girls who, on Mondays, go to his house to watch Celebrity Big Brother. While they’re contemplating Andrea Montovoli and Paolo Ciavarro’s respective six packs, he starts to crawl on the floor, gets closer to their feet and starts to sniff them. Then he sticks his tongue out .. I’m praying A. isn’t listening to these confessions but A. feels like he wants to reveal some more.

Piglet. He is confident he can trust me so he tells me he called a mistress. He gave her 300 euros to be humiliated : at 3 o’clock in the afternoon he leaves the door ajar and she finds him lying on a table with a lemon in his mouth, similar to a roasting pig, and she starts insulting him calling him names like “you dirty pig, what have you done?” then she proceeds to whip him leaving him some marks: “Do you want to see them?” he asks all excited.

I WANT TO DISAPPEAR. I decline his offer telling him I believe him and I ask for the bill hoping A. hasn’t seen me. I pay. I slide outside as fast as I can, L. keeps talking to me but I’m not listening, I just want to leave. But it’s too late: “hi Sabina, how are you?”

(to be continued)