Revealing To Your Partner That You Poop: A Tale Of Love & Betrayal
The big day has come. First time in your lover’s apartment. Congratulations! You’re making moves now. He tells you to hang tight in the living room as he disappears into another room — anticipation builds. You sit alone on his grandmother’s ancient couch. Stains and Doritos lay waste to the tan suede. You coyly scan the room for dead cats, dead roommates, or dead ambitions. Nothing is popping out so you think to yourself, “I can work with this.”
You take this time to evaluate the date thus far. An average dinner at Outback Steakhouse, followed by the latest Marvel flick at a nearby AMC. But you’ve done all that before. This is a first. You wonder what tonight will bring. Hopefully more than what you’ve been able to get in his 2001 Toyota Corolla. You fantasize about what will inevitably come in that bedroom, and then something…happens. Something you didn’t anticipate. Something that CANNOT happen tonight, because now is not the time. It can’t be happening. You had a plan! You ate the Fettuccini Alfredo because it usually stays in there longer. You tried to go during the movie just to be 1000% sure you had time. But here you are: you have to poop.
Typically, you welcome this bodily function, but you have determined that he cannot know you poop for at least the first three months of dating. You scramble to come up with a quick solution. A list! You will come up with a list of possible solutions:
1. Leave. Explain later.
2. “Take a call” outside and hope that it results in a fart. If it’s a shart, see #1.
3. Hold it…Nope. Not this one.
4. Put on your adult pants (or rather, take them off) and use his bathroom.
Ultimately, you go against your better judgement and choose #4. He is going to know you poop eventually, right? And besides! Maybe it isn’t going to make that much noise or emit that much of an odor.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom really quick,” you yell as you rush to the only other door you see. You immediately turn the faucet on in order to create the façade of peeing and then the poop arrives. It comes out S.T.R.O.N.G. Maybe you have a newfound dairy intolerance? All you know is that he can definitely hear you and you will definitely have to leave. Why now? Why has your body betrayed you like this? You really liked this guy, and this just ruins everything. You spend the next 3 minutes looking for some kind of smell eliminator. Nothing is revealing itself, so you admit defeat and wash your hands.
As the door creaks open, you see your soon-to-be-ex sitting on the couch staring at you. “What is wrong with you?” he mutters. He stands, holding your coat and ushers you to the door. “Goodbye forever,” is the last thing he ever says to you…
Just kidding. Worst case scenario, right?
As the door creaks open, you see your soon-to-be-ex sitting on the couch staring at his phone. You take a step out of the doorway. He looks up and smiles. “You been snooping around my bathroom?” He laughs. You laugh too, kind of. Does he not notice the smell? Is he pretending not to care? Did you phantom shit? He has to be judging.
In a moment of word vomit you say, “I don’t think I can stay.” He looks perplexed. “Why not?” he remarks. You panic. Why did you say that? There is no way of talking yourself out of this one. Finally you burst out, “I never expected this to happen, but I just pooped in your bathroom.” The tension breaks, as his laughter fills the room. “Shit happens, amiright? And thanks for keeping the seat warm. My turn!” he says and jumps up. Oh. He doesn’t really care? He jumps at the opportunity to also poop? This is good. This is really good.
You determine that maybe the better option would have been to just keep that information to yourself. But also his reaction has really…turned you on. Maybe he planned this? Fill you with dairy, bring you back to his apartment, leave you to your own anxieties, and ultimately let you fend for yourself on the toilet. Then he comes to the rescue with his words of affirmation (your love language, obvi).
And somehow, it worked! You’ve never been more ready for coitus. It’s go-time. Your body is ready and empty of all worries. You two drift into the bedroom, and things commence. Then something…happens. Something you didn’t plan. Something that CANNOT happen tonight, because now is not the time. A queef. Oh geez, here we go again.
