Mink Muffs

Let me begin this post by saying that it is not for the faint of heart. With that said, I hope you don’t have a weak stomach. And this isn’t suitable for children as there are some curse words in the following post.

I was set to go on a first date with a really cute guy, the kind of cute guy that you oogle over. He had a great athletic build and gorgeous blue eyes, and the straightest white teeth I’ve ever seen. Needless to say, I was so excited!! It was summer time in the South, and I knew we would be going to a higher end Mexican restaurant. Given the summertime South, I thought it would be appropriate to wear a cute little bright top with my white skinny jeans and some adorable little platform black heels. Looking cute? Check. Ready for this date? Check.

He picked me up in his super nice truck, and we were on our way. The margaritas were flowing, the food was great, and the conversation felt promising. Toward the end of the date, I started feeling a little gassy and nauseated. I thought it was just nerves, so I thought it would be okay to just let that gassy-ness go. It was certainly just a little silent one. Oh. MY. GOOOOODDDDDDDDDD. This was not anything I would have ever expected to happen to me.

It wasn’t a silent pass of gas, instead, it was a full on crap myself situation in white pants. Yes, you heard that right. I shat myself in white pants on FIRST a date at a Mexican restaurant. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?????? I HAVE THE WORST LUCK IN THE ENTIRE FREAKING WORLD. I’M NEVER DATING AGAIN.

I immediately excused myself to the bathroom. I thought that if I could haul ass to the ladies and clean myself up before it had time leave evidence on my white skinny jeans, I could escape this nearly unscathed. You should know by now that I don’t have that kind of luck. This is one of many reasons you should never take me gambling.

While in the bathroom, my brain was racing. Do I leave? How do I leave? I don’t have a ride, and this guy is way too nice to just stand up at the end of the meal. How in the hell am I going to get out of this with the least possible amount of humiliation?? I clean myself up as best as possible, which wasn’t much. My jeans were stained, I smelled like a manure factory, and I am about five minutes from having no semblance of dignity left. Fabulous! SERIOUSLY, Universe!!! In the whiniest internal voice possible, I scream in my head, “WWWWHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????”

I did the only thing I could do without completely ruining this guy’s self esteem, and I slipped out the back door of the restaurant. I called him at the table and explained, “We need to go. I’m not feeling well, and I’m standing in the back of the restaurant? Can we just go? I’m so so sorry for the abruptness of this request.” It was as nice as I could make it given the insanely offensive smell he was about to encounter. Then, it hit me, OMG, I have to ride in his single cab truck, which has a small interior. This smell is going to permeate everything! Just lovely.  He takes care of the check, and drives his truck around to the back of the restaurant. I then have to explain what has happened to him. His face contorts in the worst of ways, his nose wrinkles, and he looks like he is about to gag. Yay me! Despite this, he is generous and offers to take me home, on one condition, that I hang my ass out of the truck’s back sliding glass window. Well, whatever, at this point my crapped on ass going down the streets of my city is not the worst part of this story. I’ll survive.

He drove me home with my ass hanging out of the back of the window, stained with crap. It was the most humiliating moment of my life. He never called for that second date, despite the wonderful time we had prior to me crapping myself. I couldn’t have muffed this date any worse than I did. So, the moral of the story here is don’t crap yourself on a date. It’s just bad.

Stay Glittery, Daters!

xoxo,

Candice

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