disclaimer: this piece that I’ve written could be deemed as “too much information.” So read at your own risk, & laugh while doing so.
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When Lover & I first moved in together, I wasn’t very worried at all. I wasn’t worried about waking up with nasty bedhead, foul breath & a bad case of the “grumpies.” (He loves me still, even so.) I wasn’t worried about him leaving the toilet seat up. I wasn’t worried about putting my embarrassing toiletries in the cabinet for him to see; the tampons, the upper lip peach fuzz remover. & I was hardly worried about his reaction to me being sans makeup. (We had many, many sleepovers before making the big plunge to living together.)
What worried me the most — & I just know I’m going to regret talking about this in a few hours, but it needs to be said — was pooping in front of him. Yes, pooping; the funniest word I’ve ever heard, & one I use lightly to take the edge off. (I’ll say things like, “I’m having a poopy day” or “I’ve got a headache, & I’m feeling poopy about it.”)
Pooping in the presence of Lover terrified me. I mean, it literally kept me up at night sometimes. Because I am the type of girl who will not go in public restrooms unless it’s an emergency. Say, we’ve been traveling for 2 hours straight in a hot car & I just drank a half a liter of water. Or… I desperately need to change a tampon, as the 6-8 hour time frame has expired. Those, to me, are emergencies. If I just have the slight urge to “go” I won’t. I’ll hold it ’till kingdom come. I don’t feel like it’s appropriate to share my bathroom business with anyone, let alone perfect strangers. Same with the perfect strangers. I don’t want to hear the sound of your pee hitting the toilet water; & I certainly don’t want to hear the grunts & grimaces of people doing the dirty deed. No thank you.
So, with all of these privacy issues I have when using public bathrooms, it’s only appropriate that I would feel the same way when it comes to “going” in front of Lover. I had even tried to convince him once that women simply don’t poop; that they’re too pretty & lady-like to do such a thing. (Lover faked like he believed me, but naturally, he wasn’t born yesterday.)
One time, we were watching local television. I remember that an episode of Girlfriends was on, & it was about the main character’s fear of pooping in front of her boyfriend. Watching this made me feel less alone in my thoughts, but it certainly reinforced the fear. In the episode, she ends up “going for it” because she feels like their relationship is at a comfortable & trusting point, so she “goes” & ends up clogging the toilet, forcing a plumber to come in & fix the pipes. I laughed along with the show — that IS hilarious, you must admit! — but inside I was terrified. I thought, Oh my god… that will totally happen to ME!
So casually, after the show was over, I asked Lover, “Honey… what do you think about… poop?” He laughed & said something about it being a completely natural thing to do; then he said something about how he would worry if I didn’t poop. I said, “So… if I smelled up the bathroom, you wouldn’t think less of me?” Now I felt like I was going to cry, because the thought of this just shook me so. He laughed a little & said quite calmly, “No, I wouldn’t think less of you.”
His voice was kind & soothing; & I believe he even kissed me to reassure me that he was telling the truth. But I was still not sure about this whole pooping thing. I tried my best to think of ideas where I could evade it in such a way that I could prove my myth that “good girls don’t poop.” Everything I thought about, from holding it until after he went to sleep to not doing it at all (!!!), seemed completely irrational & totally un-doable. I knew that there was no other way around it; I was going to have to poop in front of him eventually. & it’s funny that I say, “in front of him” because naturally, I would close the door to give myself some privacy. I wasn’t raised in a trashcan, of course. But that’s how I viewed it; pooping at all would be like keeping the door wide open & letting it all hang out.
When we finally moved in together, I remember feeling complete anxiety about the whole thing, trying to prolong it as much as possible. To no avail; when nature calls, even if you don’t answer… it will leave a voice mail. There is no question about it.
I remember feeling the “urge,” if you will, & wishing that I could just drop dead right there. I was feeling complete dread & humiliation, & I hadn’t even entered the bathroom yet! So what did I do to calm myself down? I announced it: “Honey, I think I have to poop!” Oh, of all the mortifying things to say when you’re an adult, but it took the edge off. He laughed understandingly, if only he could, & said very dramatically, “Okay. It’s time.” He went on to say that I had no reason to act so silly about something so very natural. He said that it was ridiculous for me to feel so ashamed & embarrassed. I was feeling a little hopeful now. “So… you’ll still love me if I poop?” I asked. He nodded. “You’ll still love me even if I smell up the bathroom?” He laughed & said, “Yes! I will still love you if you smell up the bathroom, now go, Babe! Aye!”
So I went; no need to elaborate on this. When I walked out, I had a look on my face like I broke a priceless vase & the shatter could be heard all around the world. Lover saw my sheepishness & approached me with open arms, saying, “Aww, Babe. You did it. See, was it all that bad?” I nodded, humiliated & near tears, but happy to be in his arms.
& I suppose that is when I knew I had to marry this man. He was the only guy I had pooped in front of, & he was so understanding & loving about it. He didn’t make a spectacle out of it, exclaiming, “Woo, Babe! What did you DO in there? Lord, Jesus, help me!!” He just… let it go. How could I deny the endearingness of that?
Not just that, but I didn’t want to go through the bloody torture all over again with another fellow, so I felt it only necessary to marry him, so as to save me from my own embarrassment the next time around. (& this is the truth. I mean, of course I married Jonathan because he is a charming, considerate, sexy man… but the pooping thing played a huge factor.)
My advice to young couples: You might think you should be with your lover for the rest of your life. You might already have your wedding dress picked out! But before you make ANY legal attachments, please make sure that your relationship is secure enough that if you did happen to make a stinky in the bathroom, your lover wouldn’t think thrice about it. After all, us women are supposed to suck it up when our men fart & burp & carryon with such nonsense. We should be able to let it all hang out if we so choose — though I wouldn’t recommend taking it that far. What I’m trying to say is: before you marry him, for Heaven’s sake make sure you can poop in front of him. This is the ultimate indictation of trust & understanding.
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