I sat in a local medcenter after the magtrain incident. I took a good shot to the jaw, which was now clicking whenever I shifted it. I also managed to bust the skin of my knuckles open, probably from repeatedly punching my fist into the side of the head of one of those two Brutor teens. I was like a battering ram to the temple, which sounds a lot more mystical than it was.

Anyway; the magtrain was delayed for twenty five minutes. At first, the people were pleased with my actions, some even clapping as the train security came and removed the two hoodlums; then the conductor announced the delay, which soured their mood. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again; people are fickle. When we arrived at the central station stop, the last stop for that particular train, the same security team that had removed the punks from the train, was waiting for me on the platform. I figured local authorities would’ve been called if it was something serious, so didn’t even break stride as I egressed from the train.

“Sir, would you mind if we asked you a few questions?” one of the two private security officers asked. “Not at all.” I replied. “We just wanted to hear your account of what happened on the train, as the two offenders are both saying that you attacked them. Is this true?”

I could tell from his tone, and the way his eyes shifted and fidgeted around in their sockets that he really didn’t want to pursue this matter further. “Look at me.” I began flatly. “I’m smaller, older, and a helluva lot more tired than either of them is I wager. I’m already thinking of going to the medcenter to make sure they didn’t bust up my insides. Do I really look like the kind of guy that would start a fight?” I almost couldn’t get through that sentence with a straight face. They looked at each other for a few moments, quietly talked amongst themselves, then delivered their verdict. “We figured as much. It’s pretty obvious how it went down. Trash like them lying to try to get out of their situation is typical. And if you need a ride, sir, I’d be happy to take you to the medcenter.” Ah crap. I actually had no intentions of going to the medcenter. It was just a few scrapes and bruises; it would heal quickly. “That would be very kind of you, son.” I said, trying to sound older and more frail than I really was.

And that was how I got here. There were worse things than waiting for medical treatment. Besides, the attending nurse was rather attractive. She had batted her eyelashes at me more than once already; and from her physical manner it was easy to tell she was interested in me. As she finished applying disinfectant nanites to my knuckle wound, I eased into my pickup line. “Am I gonna live?” I asked with mock sincerity. She laughed a beautiful laugh, her eyes alight with fire and passion. I was already aroused. She held my hand in hers, lifting it closer to her face. She squinted her eyes, crinkling her nose, as she examined my knuckles. “Well, I’m not a doctor,” she intoned with an inflection as silky smooth as honey, “But I think you’re perfectly fine.” She smiled a coy devil’s smile at this, and “accidentally” let my hand fall against her chest before acting surprised and blushing. I decided to go in for the kill. “I have read that physical affection can often aid in the healing process. Do you know if that’s true?” I stood up, looking her directly in the eyes, my smoldering gaze penetrating her. She moved towards me, to give me a hug, and I began to reciprocate. I reached to hold her close, to enjoy the feel of her against me; to heighten the sexual tension and excitement between us both; to take this little flirtatious game to the next level; to … be patted on the back and burped like an infant? WTF?

Ladies, please; when you hug a man, do it right. Let him get a good squeeze of you. Why else do you think he’s hugging you? The “burp me” hug is near the top of the list for affection faux pas; right up there with limp wristed handshakes. If you’re going to do something, do it with all your passion, or why do it at all? Especially if you like the guy.

So now things were awkward. In the space of one bad hug, I went from aroused and interested to uninterested and second belly button. If this was how she hugged, she probably made love like a Gallente; you know, dead and motionless.

I politely thanked her and scurried away, not giving a second glance behind me to see her standing there, bewildered. I hightailed it out of there quicker than an Amarr cruiser fleet encountering two Minmatar frigates.

I don’t really care if I was politically correct. I don’t really care if I upset or hurt her. Why? Because.

You will know if I am affectionate towards you. There will be no room for doubt in your mind. I demand the same in return.

I give my all; you give yours.