Filled with nervous energy, fingernails bitten uneven, I try remaining patient while driving to pick her up. It is our first date.

After months of provocative flirtations, a potential roll in the proverbial hay appears possible. Once before, drunkenly cramped into the back of my three cylinder subcompact car, we canoodled for hours. I’ll never understand how we both fit. Maybe it was meant to be.

Without warning, a rumbled eruption unleashes an epic wet fart that squirts down my leg, staining my car seat and socks in the process. The smell overpowered my cologne.

Our dating opportunity was lost.