From Salon's Match Made in Heaven, Match Made in Hell Dating column
"The summer I was studying for the bar exam, I was swamped with work and my sister's wedding, but I had time for a little light dating. I went on about a half-dozen dates with a very nice guy from my law school class. We had a fine time at the occasional party or dinner or concert, but there wasn't much in the physical chemistry department. Still, I liked him, so by the end of the summer I found myself inviting him up to my apartment after dinner. We were on the couch finally doing some real kissing, when he started to run his hand up under my sundress. At last.
Suddenly he stops, his hand on my ass, and in a startled tone says, "Your underwear doesn't cover your butt!"
"No," I said, "it's a thong."
"What's a thong?" came the shocked reply.
I had never met a guy, pushing 30, in the 1990s, in New York City, who had never encountered a thong, much less never heard of one. Had this man never so much as seen a Victoria's Secret catalog? I tried to salvage the evening, but it was too late. There was no way I was going to be able to have great sex with a guy who considered a simple thong as shocking as a full-body crotchless latex catsuit."
