PISS AND TELL
A weak bladder interferes with a romantic encounter
Senior year of college, I worked for the university’s in-house catering company, which meant lots of long hours standing on my feet. By the end of a 10-hour shift, I was exhausted and just wanted to go home. In fact, so exhausted that I ignored the tingling sensation that signaled I had to pee.
En route to the bus stop, I realized my bladder wasn’t going to make it the 8 minutes it would take to reach my off-campus apartment, or the 2 minutes it would take to sprint back to my job. I ran to the nearest building in a panic, but it was Sunday—the doors were locked—so I made a mad dash for the bushes a few yards away. Unfortunately, I came up short. By that I mean, literally 10 steps to the huge flower pot in front of the building, where I plopped down and released—just as soon as my crush pulled up offering me a ride!
“Why are you sitting in a flower pot?” he asked.
“Um, you know, long day at work,” I said, thinking, Ohmigod, this can’t be happening. I did not just pee on myself in a flower pot!
“Well, let me give you a ride.”
“No! I mean, um, thanks, but I’m gonna chill here for a while. I’m … enjoying the weather.” Enjoying the weather?! Really? I could have punched myself.
Of all days my crush would offer me a ride, it had to be the one where I was sitting in fertilized dirt with piss dripping down my leg. He drove off unsuspecting of my little accident, but probably not without thinking I’m a weirdo. Meanwhile, I sat in the flower pot for another 20 minutes “enjoying the weather” and, more importantly, waiting to dry.
