I'll leave this to you all to determine if this is the best or worst... (somewhat NSFW, but I've kept it PG-ish)
About six years ago my girlfriend at the time and I decided we wanted to celebrate Valentine's Day. We hadn't been together that long (only about three months) and neither of us really seemed to care all that much about the whole fuss of Valentine's Day. Despite the latter, I decided to go all-out in the "I'll actually do something nice for this person because I genuinely like them" kinda way...not in the Hallmark card way. She loves Mexican food, so great (!)...I like to cook...I'll make fajitas and flan, which for me means making as many of the components from scratch as I can (tortillas, the caramel for the flan, etc.). After all, I really liked this girl...and hey, I want to show off.
So the day arrives, and she's supposed to come over to my place for dinner. I start cooking everything. I make the tortillas, chop up the onions, peppers (she really liked jalapeños), etc...while the flan is in the oven. I've got a lot of stuff to do, so there's a good bit of chaos...but I manage to pull everything off just in time. She shows up and is instantly and really pleasantly surprised by how much I'm putting into making this a nice night...which is good, right?
Yes...it's good, because we eat and things...ahem..."progress" rather quickly from the kitchen to the bedroom. Kisses happen, clothes are removed, prophylactics worn (safety first!)...and "the deed" commences. This is great right?
Yeah, until...
Her: "Wait...wait...stop!"
Me: "What's the matter, are you okay?"
Her: "NO, I'm burning!"
Me: "Huh?"
She scampers out of the bedroom, runs to the shower, flips on the water, and begins scrubbing herself with a force I thought was only possible for heavy machinery.
Me: "Are you okay?!?! What's happening?"
Her: "NO! This really hurts!! It feels like someone's lit a fire in there!"
Well dear reader, now that the blood had gotten back to my brain, I was able to put two and two together.
Me: "HOLY COW, IT'S THE PEPPERS!" (Like I said, I had enough time to cook...but apparently not enough time to wash my hands.)
Now I was prepared for the worst; call the cops, go to the bomb shelter...this is gonna be bad, when I hear from the bathroom:
Her: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Wait....this is FUNNY to her? She's in there putting out a "fire"...but hey, who am I to give the gunman a second shot if I've already dodged one bullet? She comes out of the bathroom still laughing, naked, and bright red from the waist down.
She looks at me, and says: "So are we still gonna do this? Cause I'm game!"
And we did.
The moral of the story: spicy food makes for spicy loins...in more ways than one.