New Year's Eve Dream Date Disaster

I was absolutely smitten with Sara. This was the girl of my dreams. She was 5'11" with gorgeous cascades of red hair, and the longest legs I'd ever seen. Better yet, she was also one of the most intelligent people I had ever met and had just finished her MBA. I asked her out several times and my persistence finally paid off. The first couple of dates; movies, dinner were fun (no funny stuff, I didn't even kiss her on the first date) and we seemed to be hitting it off pretty well. So, I asked her out for New Year's Eve - a really ritzy celebration at a classy hotel; big dinner, party, then early breakfast, even rooms to sleep it off (really big bucks for a new college grad). Sara seemed really impressed and gave me a kiss that took my breath away when she said yes. Well, when I picked her up on that night, my heart almost stopped! This gal was absolutely radiant in a shimmering, strapless (!) evening dress that was slit up to mid-thigh. It was kind of like Cinderella; we walked into the ballroom of the hotel and conversations stopped as heads turned to look at my date. I was living a young guy's dream, and had visions of making this gal my wife someday. I was already imagining how beautiful our children would be, but it wasn't meant to be. We had a lot of fun dancing and smooching through the evening. We kissed for about 5 minutes straight at midnight and the slow, close dancing was making me woozy even without the champagne. About 1 a.m., the band sped things up and started playing "Shout", the dance song from the Animal House movie. Everybody dances and sings according to what the lyrics say to do. The song says, "A little bit lower now, a little bit lower now," and everyone crouches down as low as they can go to the floor and dances. Then, on cue, everybody jumps up as high as they can and repeats the process. Well, around the third or fourth jump, I managed to step on the hem of Sara's dress - just as she jumped. The strapless gown didn't stand a chance; it came down around her waist and there she was, in topless glory in the middle of about 350 people. Sara was having a great time, she didn't even realize what had happened and continued dancing. Meanwhile, I couldn't even move for a few seconds, being totally mesmerized by her womanly charms, which had suddenly appeared out of nowhere before me. Well, I finally got the presence of mind back to pull off my jacket to try to cover her up. She didn't know what the heck I was trying to do until she looked down and got this look of extreme horror on her face. She simultaneously turned crimson all the way down to her navel and ripped my jacket from my hands and wrapped it around her. She then ran to the ladies room as fast as the dress would allow, with me following babbling incoherent apologies all the way. About 20 minutes later, when she finally came out, Sara wouldn't talk to me at all. She wouldn't even look at me. The magical evening was ruined, the magnificent dress was wrecked, and there was nothing I could do to change it (even the woman I asked to go in to check on her gave me dirty looks). With tears streaming down her face, Sara stormed through the hotel lobby, went outside, hailed a cab and took off (wearing my jacket, with my keys and wallet in the pockets. Luckily, I had a spare key hidden on the car, but getting into my apartment at 3 a.m. proved to be a challenge, especially with no ID. My jacket and stuff were returned, via UPS, crammed into a very tiny box about a week later. No note, nothing). Sara wouldn't have anything to do with me after that night. She hung-up on my phone calls, and avoided me when I waited outside her work place. Every time I tried to speak with her and explain the accident, I was shunned. Even her friends avoided me afterwards. I eventually gave up after about a month. I'm sure Sara thinks I did this on purpose that night. To this day, she probably still thinks I'm some sort of pervert who was trying to grab her instead of being chivalrous, trying to cover her up and save her from embarrassment. I bumped into her once more about a year later, even more breathtakingly beautiful (probably as a result of the flip-flop my stomach did when I saw her). I smiled and didn't say anything, but just got the "ice queen" stare as she and her girlfriend hurried away from me. I'll bet she remembers me every New Years for the rest of her life though. C'est la vie....

— Scott, 25

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