I think the first time I met you, you were in bed, surrounded by handsome men, plying you with grapes and song, with their cups, craters, lutes and lyres.

It was some sort of Greek or Roman festival or convention, and I'm not sure you (or they) were entirely human at the time. I seem to remember horses' tails or hooves. Maybe it was SybariCon?

Oh, yes, somehow you managed to keep one foot constantly on the floor, so it passed the Hayes censorship code.

And I'm not sure if it was actually you, or actually one of your friends ... sorry, I have a lousy memory.