When You Gotta Go…

So I recently went on a few dates with a guy, and things seemed really promising. He was attractive, successful, really nice, and seemed genuine. So it finally came time when I felt comfortable having a little sleepover.

It was pretty awesome — the man had the abs of a freaking Greek god! It’s safe to say I did not get much sleep that night, if you know what I mean. The next morning, we both woke up early because we had appointments and had… 

to leave, though not before he tried for one more go-around before leaving. Unfortunately, I really had to go to the bathroom, couldn’t find my pants, and heard his roommate in the living room just outside his door – a trip to the bathroom was clearly out of the question. I tried to stop him, but before I knew it, he had his hands on my hips, trying to move me around a little, and I couldn’t stop it. There was nothing I could do! I peed on him. Granted, not a full trip’s worth, but enough for him to stop, notice, and ask, “Did you just pee on me?!” Completely mortified, I panicked. “No. I’m pretty sure you just peed on me,” I said, hiding my face, running around looking for my clothes, and dashing out before he could even collect his thoughts. I ran down all 4 flights of stairs from his walk-up apartment freaking out repeating aloud, “I just peed on a man. I just peed on a man.” I was so embarrassed I couldn’t look anyone in the face for a week. Needless to say, I haven’t heard from him since. And really, who can blame him?

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