Really, I was pretty lucky with dating, but there was this one:
  1. Who doesn't like ice cream and a movie?
    I was on a first date (this was high school) with a nice guy, and he thoughtfully planned a stop at an ice cream parlor before seeing Monty Python's And Now for Something Completely Different.
  2. In the seventies, wide leg pants were in style.
    We sat eating our sundaes when I felt something ticklish on my knee. I brushed my leg with my hand and instantly felt a painful stinging sensation.
  3. It's a bee! I have a bee in my pants!
    I Assumed it was a bee. They only sting once, right? Not wanting to call attention to myself, I kept right on eating and chatting away.
  4. I. Was. Wrong.
    It wasn't a bee. It was a hornet or a yellow jacket; whatever you call those evil-looking creatures.
  5. I know this because ...
    It kept stinging, and stinging, and stinging my knee—those damned wide leg pants. (My mom made those pants, darn her.)
  6. While never looking away from my date, I squeezed the fabric of those white cotton, wide leg pants. Hard.
    And I killed it. I killed the hornet/yellow jacket. Dead.
  7. When we stood up to leave ...
    I shook the dead insect out of my pant leg onto the black and white checkerboard floor, glancing down quickly only to confirm my suspicions.
  8. We walked across the street to the theatre, me still acting like nothing had happened.
    Just ten minutes into the movie, I leaned over to my date and whispered, "I think I have to go to the hospital."
  9. My mom met us at the emergency room.
    I had ten stings, and the swelling on my knee was the size of an acorn squash.
  10. That guy never asked me out again.
    Was he mad he missed the movie?