I'm Gonna Blow!

The sex machine and I went out to eat a few nights ago at our local neighborhood Olive Garden.  Depending on what my lover eats and from where, he sometimes gets hit pretty hard by the Gastrocolic Reflex.  The simple explanation for this reflex is that when your guts have food in them, you need to have a poopie right quick after eating.  Our Olive Garden is right by a Walmart - as in, next parking lot over.  We rode the motorcycle over for some important supplies (chocolate and tampons most likely) and as soon as Jared parked, he was hopping.  "I gotta poop!" he informed me in a panicked tone.  We walked in the door and the front restroom was blocked for cleaning.  I laughed out loud because man was Jared getting uncomfortable.  In a split second, he headed for the back bathroom and this is what I saw:

This view is significant because Jared is always either next to me or behind me - never in front.  His short legs just can't keep up with my long stride so at best, he's beside me.  If I'm in a hurry, he just eats my dust while trailing behind me at his own pace.  I knew that poop must be screaming his name if he had the ability to outpace me!

I sat outside the back bathroom for what felt like forever.  I watched dudes come and go and wanted to hug each of them out of sympathy for the poop bomb they were breathing.  My man has some major stench when he's in true form.  Pay attention to the dude going into the John:

He came out about one minute later and I figured only three different scenarios could have played out:

1. Man that guy can whizz faster than any human alive!
2. I bet that disgusting idiot didn't wash his hands after touching his penis!
3. I bet that poor fool caught a whiff of my man and is now going to find a corner to die in!

Unfortunately, I was trying to play it cool despite the fact that I was sort of spying so I couldn't find out what really happened in there.  Since I secretly believe that the majority of men don't practice good bathroom hygiene, I tried to memorize his face so that I could avoid touching anything his penis fingers may have contaminated.

Just when I was about to ask an employee to go in and see if my lover had died pulling an Elvis, Jared strolled out.  As if a closed bathroom wasn't enough punishment, I guess he had to wait for two brothers who were hogging the two toilet stalls.  The older one kept saying, "are you done David?"  or, "David, have you finished?"  and "David...  David...  David... Are you done David?"  Jared wanted to yell at the older kid and ask why he had to hog the stall while waiting for David and to David he wanted to yell:  "DAVID, GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE!  I GOTTA TAKE A DUMP!"  This delightful description left me in tears as I laughed my head off in Walmart.  It didn't get any better as I told Jared how badly I felt for every man that strolled into or out of his death stench.  He grinned, giggled and said, "Oh I know.  It was bad!"

We finished strolling around Walmart collecting our equipment and then the unthinkable happened:

You are looking at me just realizing that my own Gastrocolic Reflex has set in.  Unlike my hubby, I very rarely will EVER poop in a public place.  I have some serious issues leftover from my childhood and I avoid splashdown unless I'm in a private bathroom or in my home.  Seriously folks, there have been at least two instances in which I have considered pooping my drawers and cleaning it up later in an effort to avoid public pooping!  Thankfully, the only pant soiling I have ever actually done has been completely on accident - knock on wood!  We finished checking out and I made it home to poop in peace, but was grateful to Olive Garden for the exciting evening I had.  Dinner and a show!  I should have left a bigger tip!