I'm with stupid.

What an offensive shirt to wear on a first date, I thought as I picked at my salad. As soon as it was socially acceptable, I'd excuse myself to the bathroom, where I'd conveniently get a call from my dog's babysitter.

As we finished dinner, I prepared to make my dash to the bathroom, but he stopped me. "It's the shirt, isn't it?"

"I didn't say anything," I replied.

"I know you didn't, but you definitely noticed it. You'd have to be, well, stupid not to. So here's the story." His voice took on a sad tone. I readied myself for a story about it being the favourite shirt of a dead brother or something similar.

"It was the only thing I had clean. My wife hasn't done my laundry in a month."