Anne Robertson, the mother of my girlfriend, Katie!
She was looking frantically around for her clothes. I took off my shirt (it was one of those kind WAY too big for me, and I had on a t-shirt underneath), ran up, and handed it to her.
"Joe!" she said, recognizing me. "I don't know what happened. Oh, thank you," she said as I gave her the shirt. As I guessed, it covered her nicely. "It's a good thing you were here. You're such a gentleman!"
I felt a little ashamed of myself at the compliment. "Gentlemen" don't make their girlfriend's moms stand naked in the street.
"But I see I'm still looking good apparently," she added. She was looking at my crotch, and I realized I HAD liked what I'd seen -- but I didn't want to be so obvious about it.
"Oh, man," I said. I knew I was blushing. "Mrs. Robertson, I'm so sorry!"
"It's all right, Joe. I'm flattered. Sometimes I think Katie doesn't appreciate what she has in you."
That was true, I thought. Things had been cooling between us lately.
"And I think your ex didn't know what he had in you," I said. "I wish you and Katie could switch places."
oops.
How was the ring going to interpret THAT?