I was on a ski trip with my girlfriends and, as we were all novices, we decided we needed to take a lesson before we started riding the lifts to the top of the mountain--especially since there was this tall, Scandinavian instructor who had captured our attention!
We giggled and flirted with our instructor as he patiently tried to show us how to snowplow down the bunny slopes. Finally, nearing the end of the lesson, he took us up the lift to a higher run. He skied down a bit, then had each one of us ski down towards him. Unfortunately, when it came to my turn, another skier suddenly veered towards our group. I lost my balance, fell, and ran into our instructor, knocking him off his feet. I noticed him grimacing a bit as we got untangled, but he was totally nice about the mishap as he helped me get back up on my skis.
Later that night, at the local bar, we saw him limping towards us, with some of his friends. He introduced me to them as "the girl who had swept him off his feet". That was 43 years ago, and he still refers to me that way. But he did made sure I improved my skiing technique in the interim.