Any man who sports khakis understands the peril and responsibility of wearing them. Those standard issue pieces of a man’s wardrobe can bring an unparalleled embarrassment and lead to situations that can make those around you squirm or worse, laugh. It happened to me yesterday and not even for the usual reasons. No. This time, I was simply washing my hands when the faucet turned into an unexpected torrent in the shallow sink at waist level and spewed a thick stream of water right into my crotch. I was rushing to a meeting with one of the network presidents, and I stood in front of the rest room mirror dumbly looking down and wondering what to do. I tried blotting and rubbing, and eventually, I turned a relatively small spot into what looked like the map of Montana on my pants.

It usually happens when I’m in a hurry and don’t take the time for that extra last shake. One time, when I was rushing to my very first meeting with a client as a newly promoted agent at CAA, I managed a wet spot the size of a quarter directly over my penis. I tried to hunch over as much as possible without looking crippled to greet Dyan Cannon but the moment I stuck my hand out to greet, her eyes went straight to my groin and not in that fun, admiring way.

I traded in on this fashion anomaly when I organized an enormous party for my last network and hired a bevy of drag queens to flirt with the nervous straight men then secretly wet the front of their pants with little squirt guns. It was a fun night, watching the clueless guys wind their way through this party and the looks of horror on their dates’ faces.

It’s tricky wearing khakis, no doubt about it. You can stand and shake to the point of suspicion, and still something might happen once the zipper goes up. It can be the tiniest of spots or it can look like a fire hose had flopped out of control. Men snicker with knowing recognition but women wince. Who can blame them? There’s nothing in their physiology that leads to a similar visible boo boo.