Yesterday was my second date with Bill and I'm in pain.
We decided to go ice skating. I have never been ice skating in my life. Bill said he had a few times but it had been years. Still, it sounded like fun.
The rink was nice. I didn't realise they were so large.
"If you like this," Bill said, "I know where we can go when the weather is colder. An outdoor rink."
Hum, so Bill sees us together when the weather is colder? I smiled to myself. He was either optimistic or psychotic. I wasn't sure.
We both shook as we got on the ice. I was shakier than he was. Why do I do these things to myself, agree to do things I've never done before? People were speeding by, even kids, and I felt like an awkward idiot.
"You'll be okay. Come on."
Bill offered me his hand and we skated, slowly, around the rink arm in arm. It actually would have been romantic if I wasn't so scared on falling onto the ice and cracking open my skull.
"Do you think we'll be okay to go a little faster," Bill asked. "I feel like we're a speed hazard here and I don't want some hot shot to run into us."
I nodded and took a deep breath. "Let's go."
"Are you sure?"
"Let's go for it. I enjoy being a dare devil."
What a lie, but what was I supposed to say to him? That I'd prefer using one of those walker things on ice that young kids and disabled people use?
So we started going faster for a while. It was fine. We were fine. Then all of a sudden our feet got tangled up and we both ended up falling our our butts. And we both sprained our ankles, only on different feet.
We're both on crutches. Sexy.
