Yes, you read that correctly. It’s not a typo. It’s a love story. Sort of. Let me explain. See the pic below? That cute little blonde guy? He was my first crush. I still remember his name. Danny Devries.
I was totally besotted with him from the first day we met. Here we are at my 5th birthday party. See how we wore our birthday hats at the same jaunty angle. It was meant to be!
Unfortunately, it was an unrequited love. He barely gave me the time of day. That is until one day, there was nobody else around. He gave a barely audible “I guess so” answer to my “want to play?”. I was over the moon! He didn’t say no! He had actually acknowledged me.
Danny loved toy trains and matchbox cars. I still remember it like it was yesterday. There we were, just the two of us, bent over in a squatting position. He was playing with his hot wheel cars and I was watching, with a goofy grin from ear to ear. I was so happy that I completely ignored the funny noises my tummy was making.
Twenty minutes later, I realized I was about nineteen minutes too late in ignoring what my intestinal tract was desperately trying to tell me. There’s something about squatting that instinctively allows mother nature to take over. Yep, you’ve probably guessed what was about to go down. Literally and figuratively speaking.
I shot up like I’d been hit by lightening and started running toward my house, but it was too late. Mom liked to have me wear dresses in the Summer. I wish it weren’t so; pants would have saved me the humiliation that was taking place. I could feel the little poop droplets bouncing out of my drawers and on to the grass as I tried desperately to clench my tiny five year old butt cheeks together and run at top speed at the same time. Talk about counter productive.
I remember looking back (goodbye, Danny my love!) and seeing a little poop pellet on the walk way, then at the door, then finally one last nugget in back of dad as he was shaving.
I launched myself onto the loo with such vigor that I nearly fell in. Dad looked over at me, face full of shaving foam, utterly perplexed. Then it happened. He was barefoot and stepped in my poop.
My dad was a man of few words, but let me tell you, that man could cuss a blue streak when pissed. Or in this case, pooped. At first he thought maybe the dog was the culprit, but she was nowhere to be seen.
My mom heard the commotion, so naturally she had to come into the bathroom. Followed shortly by the dog. There we all were, the whole famn damily squeezed together in the bathroom.
Picture it. The dog was sniffing my deposit, my father was swearing and hopping around the bathroom with one foot held out in front of him, my mom was trying to make sense of it all, and there I was, sitting on the throne, mortified, bobby socks and patent leather shoes with my soiled drawers around my ankles. I had crapped myself for love.
So that was a foreboding glimpse into the future and what my love life would look like. Not much has changed over the years, minus the pooping of one’s drawers. Some folks are lucky in love. Those folks aren’t me. As mentioned earlier last week, I’m trying my hand again at online dating. So far…..nothing. Oh well, at least I have clean underwear and that’s a good thing. Am I right??!