The Problem with Painted-On Pants

Story Sent in by Sherman:

Curiously, Donna wore something resembling black tights to our first date. They were so snug on her that every curve, crease, and jiggle was visible. Seriously. You could see her butt crack.

She had come across as very nice online, and her photos were indeed accurate representations of what she really looked like. If she was proud of her assets, then who was I to judge?

We were at a restaurant, and she excused herself a lot to go to the bathroom. I didn't say a word about it, and overall, I really enjoyed her company. However, at about her sixth time off at the bathroom, she didn't return for a long while. I was a few minutes away from texting her to make sure was okay, when she actually texted me:

"g2g bye."

I wrote her back immediately: "Everything ok?"

No response. She had stuck me with the check (she had barely touched her own food but still) and I was left there, without a date. I paid, packed up her food (figured I'd eat it if she wasn't going to), and left.

I wasn't planning to contact her again, but she ended up reaching out to me, after all. A very apologetic email arrived from her, and although she said she was sorry in about 50 different ways, she didn't mention a word about why she had disappeared. Nothing about an emergency or anything.

I wrote her back, told her that I accepted her apology, and asked her why she took off in such a hurry. Maybe it was none of my business, but it was nagging at me and I wanted to know.

She wrote back, "Had 2 go, pants almost ripped in 2 after bigfart."

I mentally nicknamed her "Little Miss. Bigfart" after that story, and we never ended up going out again.


  1. Sounds like a scene from Norbit, or the Nutty Professor, or any of those Eddie-Murphy-In-A-Fat-Suit movies.

  2. The fart wouldn't have been a problem. Farts are funny. The sentence structure, though, would have had me reaching for the BLOCK button.


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