9/18/05

1:34 p.m. I'd like a glass of humility with just a splash of embarrassment, please. On the rocks. And hold the pride.

Thanks.

I went on a date yesterday with a certain light-haired man. We decided to browse around the bookstore near my house and then take a leisurely stroll along Main Street. Nice.

I decide to wear my favorite pair of jeans, a black belt, a tight black t-shirt and these fantastic black leather boot-shoes with a rather formidable heel that I just got. I know I don't usually wear heels since I'm notoriously clumsy, but...DAMN, they look good! Watch OUT, Wisconsin, cuz Polly is on the prowl! Um... Not really on the prowl, I guess, since I'm on a date and prowling while dating is kind of rude.

Anyway, light-haired man and I have a cup of tea at a cozy little table and things are going pretty well. He is charming and funny and I am patting myself on the back for my witty banter and intelligent commentary on subjects of which I am somewhat educated...mostly death, candy, spying on people, and little morsels of useless trivia such as, "Did you know that there is a type of coffee that is super expensive because the beans have to be shat out by a bat before it is edible for humans?" That kind of thing.

Light-haired man and I leave the book store a few minutes later and decide to take a walk. But then something surprising happens. I'm not quite sure how it all went down, but as I was stepping up onto the sidewalk, I must have caught my fabulous heel on the concrete curb because the next thing I know, I'm on my back. On a very hard sidewalk. With a dully-aching knee and a very concerned light-haired man staring down at me. I say the first thing that comes to mind.

"Did you see how I rolled into that? That was BEAUTiful! I should be a stunt woman!" I am hoping to convince him. He looks dubious as I hug my bruised knee.

Several people across the street are asking if I need help. I want to muzzle them and throw them in the lake as punishment for their neighborly concern. Light-haired man tells them I'm fine and I sit up. He walks me home with a hand around my waist to support my bad knee. As we walk I try to convince him how gracefully I splattered myself on the sidewalk. "Uh huh," he says indulgently. He is concerned about my knee and offers to carry me.

Hmm... I think it would be in my best interest to milk this injured damsel thing a bit.