Secret Stories Part 2: The Day I Ripped My Pants


I keep replaying the horror that has happened to me – as I sit at the table.  How could I rip my pants completely open on the same day I decide to forego underwear?  This is a nightmare.

My suit coat is draped over my lap to shield myself from any onlookers.

Every few minutes someone would come by and declare, “Hey! You’re Amanda’s new boyfriend!”  The attention being drawn to me made me very uncomfortable.

Every time they would hold their hand out and suggest I stand up to talk to them – I would just ignore them because there is no way I am getting out of this chair with this HUGE hole in THE CROTCH OF MY PANTS!

Or so I thought.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!  Dinner is served!”  The hostess declares.

“Oh babe!  Let’s get something to eat before the line gets too long.”  Amanda said exuberantly.  Most of the party goers were luckily – for better or worse- congregating around the keg on the opposite side of the reception venue.  This kept the lines for the buffet down, so it was going to make this my best chance to get food without being accused of flashing people.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you bring me a plate.”  I asked.

Now Amanda’s mother has a bit of a feminist streak to her – in that a man should get his own plate.  Honestly – I generally agree with that mentality but not on the day I ripped my pants.

“Why can’t you get your own plate, babe?”  She asked.

“Umm.. I just think you should get my plate.”  I respond.  Amanda’s dad and mother are looking at me with apprehension.

“Just kidding! I can get my own plate.”  Amanda looks at me confused.

“Okay.”  She laughs.

I fold my suit coat over my arm and hold my arm close to my belt.  It hangs just low enough to conceal myself.

“Why don’t you put your jacket down, babe? It’s burning up out here.”  She says.

Having no clue for how to respond – I blurt out, “I don’t know if I can trust these people. I’m not leaving my jacket here.”  Smooth, Ben.  Real smooth.

“Umm. That is rude.  These are our friends.  I’m sure no one will take your coat.”  I stare at her in response.  “Whatever.” She lets it go.

“Thank God.”  I think to myself.

Walking to the buffet, I keep thinking this can’t get much worse.  I have just told Amanda to get my dinner, and now I just told many eavesdroppers that I don’t trust the people at this wedding.  Great job.

Unable to move my arm up or down to ensure that my jacket keeps me covered – I am standing there with my arm frozen in place.  I have a plate balancing on it – serving myself with the opposite hand.

This is a delicate balancing act, indeed.  A few points going down the buffet, I drag my coat through a side dish or two.  My coat is now glazed with various side items.

Somehow or another – I do manage to make it back to my seat with a plate full of food and a drink, no less.  Impressive.  Maybe I can pull this off after all.

I eat dinner with my jacket over my lap with only one small problem.

“Hey babe,” Amanda asks.  “Would you go get me a refill?”

“No.” I respond.  Amanda’s dad looks at me oddly.

“Please! “  She asks.

“Umm.”  I look like a jerk. “I don’t feel very well.  I don’t need to get up.”

Frustrated – if not a bit shocked, Amanda’s dad jumps in.  “I’ll go for you, Amanda.”

“Could you get me a refill too, Gary?”   The look on his face could have killed.  I’m really making a great impression tonight.  He takes the cups.

In the midst of all of this – Amanda has been running around meeting people nearby, while I have sat contently at the table.  She had been okay with me sitting there….

… but then the band started playing.

“Babe!  Babe! Babe!  It’s time to dance!”  She grabs my arm and tries to pull me out of the chair.  She pulls me hard enough that the coat falls out of my lap.

Panic ensues. “Ahh!”  I scream.   “Amanda stop!”

I lean forward to cover myself with my chest, grab the coat from the ground, and place it back in my lap.

“What is wrong with you, Ben?”  She asks sadly.  “You have been so rude all night!  Get up dance and with me!” She demands.

“No, Amanda!”  I respond.

“Yes!” She grips my arm and pulls me again.

“No!”  I say with force.

“WHY?”  She asks.

I pause for a long while.

“Babe, what is it?”  Amanda leans over.

“Come closer.”  I say.

Amanda is leaned over in my face.  I still don’t have the nerve to tell her what is going on though so I just try and make due with a request.

“Amanda, I really need a stapler.” I say.

“Huh? A stapler?”  She looks annoyed.

“Yes, darling.  A stapler.”

“Why do you need a stapler?”

“Because I need a stapler.”  I respond.

“What does this have to do with you dancing with me.”  She asks.

I can tell this is going to go nowhere.  It’s time to come clean.

“Amanda – if I tell you this, you cannot tell anyone at all. I mean NO ONE, Amanda.”  I tell her.

Now she’s worried.  “What is wrong, Ben?   What is wrong?  Tell me.  I won’t tell anyone.”

I reluctantly begin to tell the tale of how I ripped my pants completely open.

She begins to laugh. “Your pants are ripped completely open?”  I don’t find it as amusing as she does.

“Yes.  They are ripped completely open, and I don’t have underwear on.  I really need to get my pants fixed before I can move anywhere  at all, Amanda.”  I tell her.

She starts laughing even harder.   She finds this whole situation hilarious.  “This is hilarious. You have no underwear on and your pants are ripped completely open?” She says with laughs breaking through.

“Can you please go find me a stapler?”  I ask.  “I’ll staple the hole together, so I can at least get out of here with some kind of dignity.”

She’s still laughing.  It’s drawing unnecessary attention so I’m getting frustrated. “Amanda, please!” I yell.

“Fine!” she says.  “I’ll find you a stapler.”

“Don’t tell anybody!”  I beg her.

“I won’t, Ben!”  She says as she walks away.

After what feels like an eternity – I see Amanda coming towards me again.

“OH DEAR GOD! NO NO NO NO NO!”  I start praying aloud in response to posse I see heading towards me.

Like two guards escorting a woman on a mission- Amanda’s mom and the hostess of the party are walking swiftly in my direction.

“PLEASE GOD! PLEASE GOD!  DON’T LET HER HAVE TOLD THEM.”  I beg.  God did not respond.

“BEN, DID YOU RIP YOUR PANTS OPEN?”  The hostess says aloud.

I could literally die at that moment.

I pull Amanda close.  “I thought you weren’t going to tell anyone, Amanda!”

“How am I supposed to ask for a stapler from someone else’s house without giving them a reason.”  She responds.

“Ben, come on inside.  We’ll get you fixed right up.”  The hostess says.

Amanda’s mom jumps in to console me, as well.  “I wish I had known earlier, Ben.  I would have been happy to help you.”  She waits for me to stand up and begin my walk to the house.

“Don’t worry babe,” Amanda says.  “I didn’t tell them you weren’t wearing underwear.”  Well – at least she kept one secret.

In humiliation, I walk slowly towards the house.  The cool breeze of the night is brushing up my legs – while the chatter and laughs about the hole in my pants is circulating among the ladies in front of me.

Well – at least I know it cannot get any worse than this.

Until we got in the house.  My poor mother-in-law doesn’t know I am not wearing underwear, and out of the kindness of her heart, she will try to help me sew this hole up.  Yes.  You will want to read how this story pans out.



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