We talked here with my husband about the turbulent institutional youth, this is what I recalled.

The summer. The heat. The local coast. I am on the clips: shorts on the most "I can't", a swimsuit and heels. I can ride, eat beautifully, take big steps, the guys look around. It’s time to get up: ah, I start running for a jump (I can skate) and... I forget that there is a brake in the rear on the roll, so the technique of “five to shoe” doesn’t work. It fell. It fell well: it stopped the skin. Everything that was between the shorts and the headscarf was ripped. The skin with time stretched, figured with it, but the nerves from the force of the impact was well rejected - the sensitivity fully returned only a year after two or three. Before that, even a needle car, I will not feel it anyway.

Now the story itself. A year and a half later, I met a guy at a party. We sit next to him, we talk, he looks with a dim look, I say something and I am glad that I am an interesting interlocutor. And then I realize that his hand is far under my shirt! The reaction is quick, let’s go! He looks confused, “What are you doing? I’ve been watching you for half an hour, right?” “How do I know this? I don’t have any feelings on my legs!”