While I Was Sleeping...
I am regularly involved in many manic poo-related incidents. I think it's time I shared some of them. I'm gonna start with a simple (but still embarrassing) story that happened to me two years ago -- although the smell of my humiliation still lingers.
I was dating this guy. He was sweet, honest (I think), and VERY hot -- the defined kind of hot that makes you proud ya' bagged him. Things were getting pretty serious. After six months of dating, we had moved in together. It was a mutual agreement.
But I couldn't delay the inevitable. So before we moved in together, I warned him of my toilet habits: I am a regular pooper, I need a toilet available constantly, and I'm a SHAMELESS POOPER. That's putting as much stress on the phrase as possible.
He merely laughed when I explained this to him. Oh, how soon those laughs would cease...
The two of us were morning people. One morning, a morning I will never forget, we both woke up early. I normally have to take the first of many daily dumps in the morning, and this morning was no exception. But this morning was also perfect. I felt so comfortable and at peace lying in bed with my boyfriend that, despite the pressure building in my anus, I decided to hold it in. That's something I normally can't commit to. But that day, I did.
So we lay, enjoying each other's silent company. And somehow, I fell asleep. Going against all my previous experience and wisdom, I fell asleep knowing full well that a turd was waiting to escape into a watery grave.
I woke up feeling strangely relieved. Feeling happy at this odd occurrence, I relaxed and sunk back into the mattress. And felt something rub against my leg. And push gently into my cheeks.
My heart fell -- just as my load had sometime during my slumber!
"Morning," whispered my boyfriend. Horror struck me. I tried to get up and make a run to the bathroom, but he wrapped himself around me on the bed. He started rubbing me with what should have been soothing hands, but his touch only enhanced my horror. And then, thinking like all men, he started moving his hands down to my ass. Without as much as a pause, he squeezed the (thankfully) outside of my underwear, which, of course, meant he also squeezed...
He froze. I froze. I think the world froze. Everything froze as my then-boyfriend clutched -- yes, CLUTCHED -- my shit-homing underwear.
You can probably guess what happened next. He freaked out and we broke up shortly after, these two incidents separated only by an interval that mainly involved him frantically washing his hands.