Congratulations on Getting Out of the Weeds!

You’re going to be ass deep in prick clients tonight when that madman crashes his motorcycle through the plate glass window of the restaurant and rolls to a stop, the flames still lapping at his arms.

“Holy shit,” you’ll shout as you rush over to him with damp towels, trying to smother the blaze. He won’t seem to hear you, however.

Part of it will be the mild concussion, and part of it will be the sound of his journey through the window and two your feet, which will have been deafeningly loud from his perspective. But a small, critical portion of his efforts will have been generated entirely by love. Specifically love at first sight.

“Holy shit,” he’ll mumble up at you as you do your best to take care of him. He won’t squirm or writhe in pain or anything like that. He’ll just kind of smile up at you with this dumbass look on his face and blood oozing from a cut on his temple down across his eyes. His perfect blue eyes.

While you’re daubing blood off of them, that’s when you’ll first see them for the first time. Like, really see them. After you clear most of his vital fluids off his face you’ll smile and say “Hi,” back at him while he still lays their and mouths the words “holy shit” over and over.

When he finally calms down you’ll get him name (Colin) and find out he was training to be a dare-devil and did kind of a shitty job of making sure he wouldn’t get hurt. You’ll find his lacking judgment and his ability to interrupt your shitty work-day endearing, and ask him if he wants to come home that night. Thus will begin your brief, unsuccessful stint as a daredevil promoter/paramour.

Congratulations on Getting Out of the Weeds!