On Grace

This morning I discovered a four-inch bruise on my ass. The bruise is shaped exactly like the door handle on my girlfriend's truck.
Coincidence? Of course not!

This weekend I was allowed to meet (for the second time) some of the girlfriend's friends. At the close of this rare event, I reached for the door handle, because that's what one does when trying to close a door. Somehow (I'm still not clear on the details), instead of closing the door, I managed to catapult myself out of the cab and onto the newly-planted grass below. I attribute the artful impression (done in blues, purples, and blacks) of the door handle on my posterior to my inability to grasp certain fundamental concepts of physics, gravity, and the laws of motion. As someone once said, "I didn't know it was impossible when I did it."

Could this be the reason the girlfriend doesn't let me hang out with her friends?