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| Ray Milland, actor |
Post-Coitus Melancholia |
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 As country-house parties went, I suppose this one wasn't too bad until about ten o'clock, when I got waylaid by a determined blonde who was years older than I. She must have been at least seventeen. She had been sticking pretty close to me all evening, making sure I had plenty of food from the buffet, lots of punch and so on. At ten, she slid up with two glasses of port and the suggestion that I might like to see the stables. Simple Simon said yes, and off we went.
The stables consisted of five loose boxes, the one in the middle being used for storing feed, bales of hay, bags of oats, corn and linseed meal. By the time we had looked at the four head, we had finished the port, and I was feeling grand. Just grand. Then she undulated into the loose box and whispered, "Come on!" Well, it was simply no contest, I didn't have a chance. It was the slaughter of the innocents all over again. I went in there like a young Robin Hood and came out as trembly as Maid Marian. I really had post-coitus melancholia, and I felt somehow degraded. I didn't want to see these people again, so I quickly got into my trap and bolted for home. By the time I had unharnessed the cob and wiped her down, I began to feel calmer, so I went to bed. I was so sleepy. (Cardiff, Wales, 1922)
from Wide-Eyed in Babylon by Ray Milland (William Morrow, © 1974)
© 2001 Nerve.com, Inc.
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