A friend of mine has just experienced the defining moment of any new live-in relationship - the one where your man asks where his pants are. This wasn't a bad man, a sexist creep, a cad. As a rule, he could be found seeking her opinion on the new Philip Roth, the Scissor Sisters, or the merits of a restaurant they had just visited. Now, suddenly, surreally, he was asking her about his pants. Where were they? What had she done with them? Could he have a fresh pair, please?
"Just remember that your real job is that if you are free, you need to free somebody else. If you have some power, then your job is to empower somebody else." --Toni Morrison
She knows where the pants are
Really, this is all about the clever quips it inspires: