Doctor Jekyll

So I've had this wretched head cold for about a month, and finally decided to go to the doctor about it, just in case. It was a clinic I'd not been to before. I turn up and am met by my fifty something doctor. He's bald, shortish.

Anyway, he takes a look at me and puts me on some antibiotics for a secondary infection in my sinus. Whatever, you don't really need to know that bit. The bit that's interesting is that he wrote out the script with a beautiful fountain pen, which he periodically dipped in red ink.

I'm a bit of a sucker for truly beautiful things, especially things that hark back to a time long gone, and so I said "I like your pen."

That's all I said.

He looks at me sort of quizzically, then leans back and takes off his jumper. He's wearing a tight, white t-shirt. I noticed that he'd shaved his arm-hair and it was growing back. He turns to me archly and says "so, do you need any contraception?"

What?

"Er, no."

Why did he ask me that? I mean, ladies, you know there are times when you get "the vibe" from a fellow, but this went way beyond that. I was looking shit too. Nose all red and head all stuffed up. Go figure.

He is a doctor, so perhaps I should have given it some thought. After all, there must an advantage to going out with someone who can prescribe all kinds of conscience-suppressing drugs, but you know, it just didn't feel right.