I Couldn’t Open His Button-Fly in Time

I Lived it:

There has never been a pair of pants I couldn’t remove from a guy. I can unzip a pair of high-waisted Dockers with my teeth. I’d heard friends at brunch complain, “Ugh, my man lost his boner because his dress pants had a weird latch I couldn’t undo,” and I understood their pain—but I never thought it would happen to me.

 

That is, until I met Jeff.

 

I met Jeff through OKCupid, and after getting drinks at a cool, underground speakeasy downtown, things were going really well, so I took him back to my place. But Jeff, always the trendsetter, was wearing acid-wash jeans, jeans that would seal his penis—and my fate—forever. It came down to 30 seconds and a six-button fly on a new pair of Levi 501s. The buttonholes had barely been broken in. I didn’t even stand a chance. His boner skedaddled like a bootlegger fleeing the feds.

 

 

Men put up with a lot from us women. They’ll open particularly tricky jars and put up our curtain rods, all in the hopes that we’ll be able to remove their pants. After all, what good is a woman if she can’t take off your pants for you? Poor Jeff watched me struggle pathetically with three buttons before stopping me. And I don’t blame him. A man can only stay interested for so long before you have to touch his penis—at least, that’s what they taught us in health class.

 

It’s true what they say: The most crucial moment in a relationship lies right after the kissing and right before his pants come off. I was always quick enough to the draw, but the rules changed when I encountered my first button fly. There’s a fine line between “into it” and “over it”, ladies…and that line is made of buttons. I had failed to cross the threshold, and I’d never been more ashamed.

 

 

Jeff left that night in a hurry, buttoning half of his fly back up at awe-inspiring speed. Men are naturally more athletic than women. I’ll probably never see Jeff again, nor do I want to after my mortifying sexual faux pas. But I learned a valuable lesson that night and I’ll never be caught unprepared again. Take it from me: Always go for the guy with the elastic waistband. You won’t be sorry!

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