Last night, a Iowa man named Tad chose Backpage to reach out to a woman he’d originally met on the same site. The open letter he wrote amounts to nothing less than an epic tale of love, loss, and loose bowels. Its title? “To the Woman Who Crapped Her Pants in My Car.” (Full disclosure: I’m preeeeeetty sure this is fake — and I’m not about to try to interpret why Tad posted it in the “Transportation Jobs” section — but that doesn’t make it any less entertaining.)
Their first date was off to a great start, but not without some spicy foreshadowing:
I thought we had chemistry sitting sharing that basket of hot wings while drinking the chili beer. I really felt like there was a connection there. I found you to be intelligent and witty and looked forward to further conversation with you.
From there, things got unexpectedly shitty. (Tad’s post-date package strikes me as a surprisingly charming and romantic response, but then again, I didn’t poop in his car.)
At some point in life, everyone has gambled on a fart and lost. It just happened to be on a first date in the passenger seat of my car. Please don’t feel bad. The package I sent you with the Pepto the next day and the note that said “first dates are always a crap shoot, call me”, was meant to be funny, not offensive.
Tad opens up, vulnerably explaining his own history (shitstory?) of sharting.
I have gambled on a fart and lost on multiple occasions. The first one I did it was very memorable. It happened when I was five and sitting on my uncles lap. I am lactose intolerant. But love cheese. I probably win 95% of the time, but I don’t think anyone wins 100% of the time.
Then, he levels with her. Shit happens, and that’s okay. (Also, I can’t explain why “heated leather seat” makes this story 100 times more disgusting, but it definitely does.)
I’m the last person to judge you for crapping your pants. In fact, I am impressed by your boldness. The timing on the other hand, could have been a tad bit better… Like when you’re not sitting on a heated leather seat…
Tad still digs you, girl. This could be your chance to get your diet and your love life right.
What I am trying to say is that if you would like to go out again, I would be more than happy to take you someplace where we can get a meal that is high in fiber and less taxing on the digestive tract.
With that, Tad’s out — but not before sharing a brilliant idea for ditching a bad date.
P.S. If you shat yourself on purpose to end the evening early… Touché…
UPDATE: Crap. A tipster has alerted us that a version of this post first appeared on Backpage some time ago. Consider us fooled — may Tad and his lady love live on in Internet folklore forever.
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