His bar was as low as they could get it without burying it underground. He didn’t even need to step over it – all he had to do was shuffle across it and he’d have been home free.
But he tripped over it anyway, then fell on his face, knocked out a couple of teeth, swallowed a mouthful of dirt, ripped his pants and then wet them, skinned both knees and inexplicably lost two pairs of shoes.
On the other hand, her bar was somewhere up in the trees and a lot of people weren’t sure she could even see it, much less clear it.
But clear it she did. She ran headlong toward it in a swift, fierce, fearless run, and sailed over it in one graceful, ballerina-worthy leap, and with a gracious smile, floated high over the hapless, grunting lump barely visible struggling helplessly to haul himself out of the pile of leaves he had somehow managed to fall into, and nailed the landing, with a wink, a confident bob of her head, and a charming but leader-like chuckle, every hair still perfectly in place, because, after all, she is still a woman and, as such, must always remain ladylike and attractive.
And then she walked away like a boss.