I remember a time when meeting someone who was just as damaged was a bit of a relief. Everyone walking…
Okay, so I had an idea for an article tonight but I as I was outlining it over in my head, I couldn’t stop thinking about a story someone told me a few years ago. Granted, it definitely doesn’t fit along with the theme of what I have written for this site lately, but whenever it comes to mind I tell everyone within in earshot so I figured I would write it for you guys.
So years ago, I was dating this vey successful professional woman. We would go to dinner parties and fancy places where they would make me tuck in my shirt and wear a tie. So it made life uncomfortable for this aging punk rocker. I would grumble and put on shoes that hurt my feet and did my best to not say the word “fuck” every 10 seconds so you know I must have liked this woman. But there is something to be said for taking yourself outside of your comfort zone. Part of me liked mixing with people who would normally never be caught dead speaking to me on the street and regaling them with my little tour stories which they found overly exciting. Things like sleeping on the floor of rat-infested punk club, or fighting pits of dudes, or cramming in a van with 14 guys for two weeks in the winter with no heat – you would have thought I was a two-headed man with spiders coming out of his ears. I have always liked being the freak and since I’m also a bit of a loud mouth with a penchant for attention, I tend to thrive in situations like that. Even if my feet do hurt.
One night we were sitting around a dinner party where people were drinking all sorts of expensive wine. I believe it was eight lawyers, one doctor, two PhD students… and me. Initially, everyone is cold at first in these situations because I’m the odd looking outsider but eventually, with the influx of more alcohol and my sparkling personality, I generally win them over. So we sat around picking at cheese plates and admiring the wall sconces telling stories. While the fireplace in the million dollar condo crackled behind us, we took turns retelling embarrassing stories. I kept mine rather tame but made sure to do my best to make people laugh. Eventually it got to one of the lawyers. By this time everyone but me was well tipsy and opening up a little bit more than they normally would. She was tall, thin, and pretty. She came from money but didn’t brag but you could tell how she held herself that there was a trust fund not too far off. What I’m getting at is that she was probably the least likely to have a crazy story, much less possess the ability to have anything shocking happen to her that should would be willing to admit. But she took a deep breath and said…
Okay, so we were out one night in River North for a work function. I was bored and struck up a conversation with the table of guys sitting next to us and I started to hit it off with the most handsome man I had ever seen. He was gorgeous. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he said he was a model. Tall, dirty blonde, rugged but professional. He had a charm and ease to him that screamed confidence and I couldn’t believe he had been spending so much time talking to me. We chatted and flirted all night until he invited me back to his place. This wasn’t something I had done before but my friends kept pushing me and telling me that I would regret not going so I did. Of course I found him sexy but more than anything I kept telling everyone, this is the guy I’m going to marry. He had everything from being sexy to a good job to dressing well to being intelligent and I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity and possibly ruin this. So I went.
We got back to his place and we hooked up and it was amazing. He lived in a high rise downtown and his place was unbelievable. While we were having sex I couldn’t believe that I was doing it with someone so attractive and that he wanted to be with me. I was so excited that afterward, all I could think of was what my name would sound like with his last name. If ever “love at first sight” was a thing, it was that night.
After we did it again, he told me I could spend the night but he had to work early in the morning. He said he trusted me being alone in his apartment but just to make sure to lock up when I left. That night I slept with my head on his chest and I was so excited to have met someone with such promise.
He left that morning and kissed me and told me to leave my number because he would love to take me out sometime. The sun came through the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city and I couldn’t believe how lucky I was and went back to sleep. Eventually, I woke up and started gathering my things. But all of a sudden, I had to poop. I ran to the bathroom and just let loose. It was a lot. But the problem was, when I went to flush, the toilet was broken. Nothing happened when I pushed the lever. I looked inside the toilet and couldn’t figure out the problem since it was a newer toilet. While I was thankful this happened while he wasn’t home, I still had to figure out a solution. So I went to his kitchen and found some grocery store bags. This wasn’t my finest hour but I couldn’t just leave a bunch of poop in my dream man’s toilet to come home and find. So, I reached in the toilet and scooped everything out and into the bags. It was disgusting but considering the alternatives, I didn’t mind. I brought the bags to the kitchen and set them down on the counter and washed my hands. I wrote a nice note thanking him for the evening, added my number, and finished it by saying that I would love to see him again. I cleaned up around his place as much as I could and made the bed and gathered my clothes. I walked out the door and remembered I forgot to take the shit bags with me when the door closed behind me.
I panicked and tried opening the door and my heart sank. I had left a bag of shit behind on my dream guy’s kitchen counter. I tried everything from picking the locks to asking the building manager to let me in but no one would help. Eventually, I had to walk away knowing my shit was sitting there, waiting to be discovered by what was supposed to be my future husband.
“So,” I asked, “Did he ever call?”
“Of course not.” She said, “And even if he did, what would I possibly say?”
So when you think about how tough your dating life is going, just keep in mind – at least you never left a bag of shit on your dream man’s kitchen counter.