I had a girlfriend, C, back in college, and one evening, she, L, S, and I got all spiffy and were on our way out to Bennigans.  I was the only one of drinking age, but we had hopes that we'd find a sympathetic wait staff...

Anyway, C needed to go to the ATM and on her way back to the car, by the curb, she fell down, in between the curb and the car.  She was mortified, and told us to drive away.
I jumped out, but she had already righted herself and was so mortified with embarrassment that she shook and cried while I and L consoled her; S had nothing to say -- S was the guy from the previous story, BTW.

Anyway, the four of us were decked out in our best clothes and we made the best of it.
L ordered a Long Island Iced Tea, and was pleasantly surprised by its strength; it was the first I had tasted, and it was good.

Anyway, nothing much else happened that night, but when I spoke with her, C was still angry that I hadn't driven off without her.  I listened to her, but simply could not wrap my mind around that.
I'm about as Chivalrous as St. Joan and Lancelot's kid would had been, but she was some country bumpkin living in a city from which she had only once ever left -- to see a rodeo in the next county.  She thought she was nothing, worth nothing, and that she belonged on the curb.
I tried my best to nurse her ego, but she had been put away wet too many times, and nothing I could do seemed to help.

When she moved away, she made no attempts to contact me, and I let it die.

The day L and I moved into an apartment to split costs, he decided to tell me that he and C had been together a few times, and he wanted to come clean about it.

The next three days were hell for me.