Nature Calls... And I Can't Answer

Just when I think I can’t outdo myself, I somehow manage to take things to a brand new level of crazy. With those wavering Brotherly feelings, I expected great things of our Sunday date day. I had to take advantage of these few nights I can actually spend with him. I packed my overnight bag really needing to have him for the entire evening. The afternoon went extremely well, too well. We ate beans, had sex, and watched reality tv.

10:30 pm rolls around, and the juices in my stomach begin rumble, my face turns colorless, and I begin to realize what’s happening… the diarrhea panic. It’s panic not because of The Brother. I mean he and I have extensive conversations about how my farts sound like Donald Duck, and I shit boa constrictors. It’s panic because he has two other roommates and a roommate boyfriend and one bathroom and thin walls.

As I’m an old hand at the panic, I began my art of Le Mans breathing in hopes the wave would pass. Then I get this ridiculous idea that The Brother should drive me home and spend the night with me, so I can diarrhea properly and still get to wake up next to him. For some odd reason, he said no. And for another odd reason, I decide it’s a good idea to get mad about it.

Then I encompass our entire relationship in the fact that he won’t take me home to diarrhea. I mean c’mon who wouldn’t do that right?

What do I do? I get dressed, pack my overnight bag, and hop in a cab. He calls on my way home to tell me not to feel stupid, yada-yada-yada. I call him back from the can and begin my psychotic spouting off at the mouth. Saying crazy things like, “my diarrhea ruined everything! We don’t get opportunities to hang out often, and I’ve been feeling distant and now we can’t sleep together because I needed my fucking toilet!” Conversation continues, “I’m just not as mature as you… look at me, I’m an idiot… flipping out over something so trivial… acting so fucking needy and all you ever do is say these perfect things and act calm and act certain of me and everything you feel and you communicate and I kick and scream and lash out!”

I mean, what kind of relationship talk is that? I hang up with him, nothing resolved, call my wife Midge… and burst into, perhaps PMS tears? “why am I incapable of keeping my shit together? Am I meant to be single forever because I’m so fucking good at ruining every good thing? I’m a disaster… I don’t deserve him…. I’m not ready for him! I have to be alone, yes that’s it… alone forever… alone in my head where I can’t ruin people – hurt people – and be hurt by people! Why am I so fucking insane?”