Watch It, That First Step Is A Big One

**Thanks Slightly Disheveled for today's guest post.

He works at my favorite "local" and has always gone out of his way to make me feel special. Especially when I'm at the "local" on one of my many stumblingly boring or confusingly misdirected attempts to date here in Small Town. He's recently untangled with his Other ...and ask me out. Me: elated.

He picked me up at my house. We went to a few places and had he bought some edibles and drinkables, opening doors for me and all the nice things. Big Smile. We've already established an easy banter between us and it was turning into one of the best dates I have been on since leaving the East Coast. We got back to my house and are rounding the side of the house in the dark and I trip. I'm clumsy. I recover myself (I thought) only to find myself plunging down the stairs that lead to the basement. It's so dark that he stands there asking "where did you go?"

Sprained ankle... not just a little sprained. I broke my heel bone into three pieces. I tore the top half of my fingernail off and was bleeding everywhere. He Band-Aided me and fed me Tylenol. Arranged the pillows so my ankle was propped up and put a bag of frozen veggies on it to ice it. In the morning he brought me the sweetest thing I have ever been given after a catastrophic first date: crutches. All I have to say here is: YAY FOR MEN WHO STILL KNOW HOW TO BEHAVE LIKE GENTLEMEN.

We have scheduled a re-do. No more Redneck Dates: I's already crippled on the first date so's I cain't runs away no more. For the second date, we'll explore some of the finer points of French cookery.

Did We Forget To Mention We're On Break?

Yeah. Ooopsies. Sorry. We're taking a bit of time off from editing DIW. Forgot to mention that.

Send us stories! It's Valentine's Day soon and I know ya'll got some messed up Valentine's stories.

Best one gets $5 from me personally.

Ciao,
S.G. Loughlin