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The other day at work, my co-workers and I randomly began discussing how bashful some of us ladies pretend to be when a relationship is brand new. One of the most interesting points was brought up by one of my co-workers, who shared that in the beginning of her relationship, she was reluctant to eat certain things because she was afraid of having to poop at her boyfriend’s house.
“I just didn’t want to blow it up and have him thinking my belly sour,” she said in her best Caribbean accent.
“And then I use sooooooo much tissue. I’ve been known to f-ck up a few toilets in my day,” she continued before we all burst into laughter.
My other co-workers then proceeded to chime in with their horror stories about not wanting to take dumps at their new boyfriends’ houses. This reminded me of a story I read on XO Jane a couple of years ago when one woman recalled holding it for five days while on vacation with her new boyfriend. Brianne Hogan shared:
There we were, together, in our hotel room. Sure, it was spacious, but when I entered the bathroom, I was immediately aware that a –- plunk! –- had the chance of being heard, and I freaked out. I didn’t want him to hear THAT! Those kinds of noises are private and intimate and are not to be shared with anyone except your mom and anonymous strangers in a public washroom when you really have to go, and maybe one those scatology people if they were going to pay you in pizza. But not the guy who thinks you’re beautiful and beguiling. Not him.
I hovered over the toilet, and I thought. “No, this can’t happen today,” and it didn’t. I know that was a pretty unhealthy choice of mine, resisting the call of nature and all, but I believed I was choosing dignity over dropping a deuce, and I was OK with that.
Until I had my next vacation coffee. And the next one after that. And that Greek salad. And the cheese in Paris -– OMG, the cheese! After a few days of being incommunicado with my colon, we both finally had had enough.
This went on for quite a while until Brianne finally learned to sneak off to the bathroom when her beau was sleeping or out of their hotel suite. While I can certainly relate to foolishly wanting your boo to think you’re perfect, I really can’t remember ever being shy about dropping a bomb at my current partner’s house. Like ever. We let it all hang out from day one, and if I happened to jack up his toilet and needed to request a plunger, I wouldn’t hesitate for a second. When I shared this with my co-workers, they thought it to be odd. It’s hard to explain, but I was always extremely comfortable with him.
Anyhoo, we’d love to hear your input. How long did you wait before pooping at bae’s house
