It was one of those evenings at The Shelter…some clueless guy (who might have been Iranian, or he might have just been saying that) was going around hassling all the ladies. Oni was there, trying to stay on top of things, and I was on the end of the dance line, ready to help out in case of trouble.
That’s when I got the IM from Danielle Ferguson, asking for help. “What should I do?” I responded, always ready to help out in the cause of the Shelter. She suggested I dance with her to keep the guy from bugging her. No problem for me! We moved over to the Hot Salsa balls.
She told me that the guy had been IM’ing her constantly, she had turned down four friend requests from him, and he was trying to get her phone number and things. He was also asking if she, and other ladies, wanted to “surf” (three guesses what that’s a euphemism for, the last two don’t count). Keeva wound up yanking his chain real good before Oni finally kicked him…but, in the meantime, Danielle was calling me “her knight, Sir Erbo.” I gave her the name, “my Demoselle Danielle” (“Demoselle” coming from one of the Lord Darcy stories; it sounds like a precursor to “damsel” and like it might be derived from the French “mademoiselle”).
We spent more time together over the next few days, when she confessed to me that what she wanted was, in not so many words, to be “Erbo’s girl.” That’s when a moment of clarity hit me: there was no one else with a better claim to the title.
Everything else followed in logical sequence.