We all say and do humiliating things throughout the course of our life. And if you haven't, send me a message and tell me your secret.
Being embarrassed sucks. You get all hot in the face, the air gets sucked out of the room, and inevitably it feels like everyone is staring at you. In my opinion the worst type of embarrassment is the INVOLUNTARY kind. Like bodily functions.
Embarrassment in a relationship is a tough one because if you stay with that person, you're both never going to live the memory down. My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") after 4 months has still not let his guard down when it comes to awkwardness. I just want to embrace it and get it over with. Whether voluntary or not, everyone farts. Everyone poops. I even reminded him that there's a kids book, Everyone Poops by Targo Gomi, to point out there's a certain level of understanding and acceptance every human has about this kind of stuff. Whether he likes it or not I fart and poop and I know he does too, he just doesn't want me to know he does and he certainly doesn't want me to hear him. What cracks me up is that MSMF has farted on me a couple times in the middle of the night. Without knowing. I just snickered to myself and found it funny but he was mortified when I told him the next morning.
What prompted this post is the other night MSMF suddenly jumped out of bed, saying "my stomach's upset. Play some music so you don't hear anything." As he hurried downstairs to the half bath, I could hear him pleading "Babe, MUSIC!" I'm not turning on any damn music, Jesus. I'm not exactly laying in bed straining to hear what's going on down there. I was more concerned with how MSMF was feeling. When he came back to bed a little while later, he didn't want to talk about it. At all. Which of course meant I wanted to talk about it. What's the big deal? The more I tried to decompress the embarrassment by joking about his stomach or exaggerating the experience he just had with squishy fart noises, the more quiet and annoyed he got with me.
What this man doesn't understand is that I've experienced THE ULTIMATE, most horrifically embarrassing thing a person can.
I shit my shorts in a hotel elevator.
I didn't just shit them. I DESTROYED them. In front of my ex.
I can't even think about the experience let alone read the above sentence on the screen without breaking into small uneasy giggles. I cry laughed for about a day after the incident. In fact I still cry laugh about it.
So how did I end up in the elevator shitting myself?
My ex and I were in San Diego with another couple to attend the Crssd Festival. I don't know what the culprit was but that morning after we all finished breakfast, getting ready to walk back to our separate hotels, my stomach was not happy. I thought I had resolved matters at the restaurant before the walk back but I was mistaken. About halfway into the mile long walk I started to pick up the pace, darting my eyes back and forth across the street to find an open coffee shop or place that would have a restroom. Sadly, our hotels were in a weird part of town with mostly industrial and office buildings. All of which were closed. As the other couple broke away toward their hotel, I realized in horror that I was maybe not going to make it back to our hotel room. At almost 6 feet I walk pretty damn fast but there's only so fast you can walk-sprint while puckering your asshole.
With my ex trailing behind me, I lunged for the lobby floor elevator, sweat beading on my forehead. As the physical pain, sweat and fear built I could hear my ex asking if I was going to make it. I could hear him but I was transitioning into an out of body experience. As the elevator doors opened and closed, I started whimpering and moaning "oh God... fuck fuck fuck..." As the elevator climbed, I started making unintelligible sounds and words the closer we got to our floor.
Just as the elevator dinged, signaling we had reached our floor, I could hold the flood back no longer. Having your bowels involuntarily void themselves is the worst! And now what am I going to do? The only thing I can do. Look at my ex in horror, as my shorts turn into makeshift diapers, knowing I'm going to have to walk the distance between the elevator and our room in shit shorts! As I started the awkward legged crab walk from the elevator to the hotel room all I could say was "oh my God... oh God... oh my God..." As I threw myself fully clothed into the shower, trying to rinse away the humiliation and terror of what just happened away, all I could keep yelling at the top of my lungs was "oh God... oh my God... oh God..." I don't know why it was God but that's who I was either damning or calling upon to save my sorry ass. I was in the shower for at least 20 minutes but no amount of water or washing could scrub the memory away.
Thankfully while I was in the shower of solace, my ex had taken care of the incriminating Hansel and Gretel trail from the elevator to our room and called the front desk. Knowing my stomach was not yet ready to drink and dance and rage at the festival, we both laid in bed as I cry laughed my way through an apology and thank yous while he recounted the elevator ride up from his perspective, saying I had a look of sheer terror on my face and was making sounds like Beaker from the Muppets; "Oh God... meep meep meep... fuck fuck fuck... meep meep."
To this day I still have post-traumatic shit disorder ("PTSD").
Every time I see those shorts I cringe and laugh a little, remembering the worst involuntary embarrassment of my life. I used to think that shitting yourself, as an adult, was not something most grown ups have experienced. Turns out I'm wrong. Almost every person I've told this story to, pale faced and in hushed nervous tones, has boldly said "I've done that before" or "that's not a big deal I've shit myself too." I don't know if I find it odd or am relieved that so many people share this similar experience.
What I do know is that MSMF has nothing to worry about with a little farting or unexpected but appropriately placed bowel movements. There are worse things. Trust me.
Embarrassment in a relationship is a tough one because if you stay with that person, you're both never going to live the memory down. My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") after 4 months has still not let his guard down when it comes to awkwardness. I just want to embrace it and get it over with. Whether voluntary or not, everyone farts. Everyone poops. I even reminded him that there's a kids book, Everyone Poops by Targo Gomi, to point out there's a certain level of understanding and acceptance every human has about this kind of stuff. Whether he likes it or not I fart and poop and I know he does too, he just doesn't want me to know he does and he certainly doesn't want me to hear him. What cracks me up is that MSMF has farted on me a couple times in the middle of the night. Without knowing. I just snickered to myself and found it funny but he was mortified when I told him the next morning.
What prompted this post is the other night MSMF suddenly jumped out of bed, saying "my stomach's upset. Play some music so you don't hear anything." As he hurried downstairs to the half bath, I could hear him pleading "Babe, MUSIC!" I'm not turning on any damn music, Jesus. I'm not exactly laying in bed straining to hear what's going on down there. I was more concerned with how MSMF was feeling. When he came back to bed a little while later, he didn't want to talk about it. At all. Which of course meant I wanted to talk about it. What's the big deal? The more I tried to decompress the embarrassment by joking about his stomach or exaggerating the experience he just had with squishy fart noises, the more quiet and annoyed he got with me.
What this man doesn't understand is that I've experienced THE ULTIMATE, most horrifically embarrassing thing a person can.
I shit my shorts in a hotel elevator.
I didn't just shit them. I DESTROYED them. In front of my ex.
I can't even think about the experience let alone read the above sentence on the screen without breaking into small uneasy giggles. I cry laughed for about a day after the incident. In fact I still cry laugh about it.
So how did I end up in the elevator shitting myself?
My ex and I were in San Diego with another couple to attend the Crssd Festival. I don't know what the culprit was but that morning after we all finished breakfast, getting ready to walk back to our separate hotels, my stomach was not happy. I thought I had resolved matters at the restaurant before the walk back but I was mistaken. About halfway into the mile long walk I started to pick up the pace, darting my eyes back and forth across the street to find an open coffee shop or place that would have a restroom. Sadly, our hotels were in a weird part of town with mostly industrial and office buildings. All of which were closed. As the other couple broke away toward their hotel, I realized in horror that I was maybe not going to make it back to our hotel room. At almost 6 feet I walk pretty damn fast but there's only so fast you can walk-sprint while puckering your asshole.
With my ex trailing behind me, I lunged for the lobby floor elevator, sweat beading on my forehead. As the physical pain, sweat and fear built I could hear my ex asking if I was going to make it. I could hear him but I was transitioning into an out of body experience. As the elevator doors opened and closed, I started whimpering and moaning "oh God... fuck fuck fuck..." As the elevator climbed, I started making unintelligible sounds and words the closer we got to our floor.
Just as the elevator dinged, signaling we had reached our floor, I could hold the flood back no longer. Having your bowels involuntarily void themselves is the worst! And now what am I going to do? The only thing I can do. Look at my ex in horror, as my shorts turn into makeshift diapers, knowing I'm going to have to walk the distance between the elevator and our room in shit shorts! As I started the awkward legged crab walk from the elevator to the hotel room all I could say was "oh my God... oh God... oh my God..." As I threw myself fully clothed into the shower, trying to rinse away the humiliation and terror of what just happened away, all I could keep yelling at the top of my lungs was "oh God... oh my God... oh God..." I don't know why it was God but that's who I was either damning or calling upon to save my sorry ass. I was in the shower for at least 20 minutes but no amount of water or washing could scrub the memory away.
Thankfully while I was in the shower of solace, my ex had taken care of the incriminating Hansel and Gretel trail from the elevator to our room and called the front desk. Knowing my stomach was not yet ready to drink and dance and rage at the festival, we both laid in bed as I cry laughed my way through an apology and thank yous while he recounted the elevator ride up from his perspective, saying I had a look of sheer terror on my face and was making sounds like Beaker from the Muppets; "Oh God... meep meep meep... fuck fuck fuck... meep meep."
To this day I still have post-traumatic shit disorder ("PTSD").
Every time I see those shorts I cringe and laugh a little, remembering the worst involuntary embarrassment of my life. I used to think that shitting yourself, as an adult, was not something most grown ups have experienced. Turns out I'm wrong. Almost every person I've told this story to, pale faced and in hushed nervous tones, has boldly said "I've done that before" or "that's not a big deal I've shit myself too." I don't know if I find it odd or am relieved that so many people share this similar experience.
What I do know is that MSMF has nothing to worry about with a little farting or unexpected but appropriately placed bowel movements. There are worse things. Trust me.
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