I knew nothing at age 22, apart from how to write a check, drive, and possibly make a good grilled cheese sandwich. While working at my first job after college as a teller in a bank in the Watergate complex I was benignly stalked by the man would eventually become my husband. My future husband?s twice, thrice, and yes, even four times a day habit of cashing five and ten dollar checks was only slightly creepy, but certainly annoying. Apparently my beauty and charm made me ?his? teller and he would politely step aside and wait until only I was available to cash his checks.
Check cashing turned into dating. He asked me to go to a dinner party which at the time seemed like fun. At this point I should mention that he was 13 years older than I was and despite being 22 I looked about, maybe 15.
The thirteen year old age difference came into play as soon as I met the other dinner party guests. They were all old, in their 30?s and 40?s and talking politics. Politics! I grew up in Washington, DC and hadn?t a clue about politics. I had a basic understanding of that whole president, two houses of congress, supreme court fabric but I knew less than nothing about local politics.
I was young and stupid and back then terrified someone might find that out so I often bloviated and exaggerated in an effort to appear smarter and more sophisticated. The political talk extended past cocktails and into the dining room. I was seated next to a genuinely smart and oh, so sophisticated woman, whose name I have forgotten.
She leaned towards me and said,?So, what do think about Marion Berry, (the long and many termed and now deceased Washington, DC mayor known for his numerous escapades and scandals)?
Not wanting to confess I had not a clue who this person was I replied,?Marion Berry, SHE will make a good mayor.?
The sophisticated woman chose to spend the rest of dinner talking to the person on her left.
-Accidental Feminist in Washington, DC
Once I got very very ill at work and couldn?t stop throwing up, and I worked a 45-minute drive away from my house, so I couldn?t get in a Lyft or anything and go home because I legit couldn?t stop throwing up and knew that a Lyft driver wouldn?t let me into their car. So instead I sat on the concrete floor of the single-stall bathroom at work (no sink) throwing up for 2 hours, then it started coming out the other end, and it was uncontrollable. While I was throwing up I also soiled my pants and my phone was at 20% and I just figured I would die sitting on the cold concrete floor of my office bathroom not wearing pants covered in poop. I had to call one of my friends and ask her to, ?please bring me a box of wet wipes, multiple garbage bags, and a new pair of pants, and walk me 4 blocks to the hospital.? To this day, I don?t think anyone in my office knows these details, but I don?t work there anymore.
-Professionally Pooped in New York
When I was 18 I was dating a guy a year younger with really strict parents. He wasn?t allowed to have a girlfriend, so I?d never met his family, and he would call me after his parents went to sleep and I would sneak into his basement to fool around. One night we were mid-act when we heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He told me to hide, but I panicked and instead of hiding in the house, I ducked out the backdoor. But there was one problem: in my panic, I?d left my car keys and sandals in the basement, so I wasn?t going anywhere any time soon. I crouched down under the basement door window and watched as his mom discovered him with his pants down and well, certain appendages at full-mast. He tried to play it off like it was a solo-act, but his mom noticed my keys and flip flops and started searching around the basement for me. I thought about just running home barefoot, but I lived a good two miles away and I wasn?t sure how I?d explain to my parents why and how I came home without the car. But I didn?t have time to decide because suddenly his mom opened the backdoor to me: still crouching barefoot trying to hide under the window. I stood up as straight as I could and not sure what to do, I extended my hand to shake and introduced myself to her. She handed me my keys and flip flops and told me to get the eff out. The guy and I broke up after that.
-Barefoot in the Backyard
I work as a flight attendant. One day, I?m sitting down enjoying my food when I thought a bag of ice I have to this lady earlier broke and the water was dripping down the floor (she was standing earlier in between the two bathrooms in the back) I open the curtain to give the lady a new bag of ice. I open the curtain to see this lady squatting on the floor peeing. I saw her vagina and everything. I go MAAM!!! What are you doing!!! And she goes nothing! As she stands up and pulls her pants up. Plot twist. She was wearing khakis so she was still peeing and her pants were getting darker with the pee. I go you were peeing on the floor and still peeing currently!!!!
Her seat was all the way up front so she passed four bathrooms to come to the back and pee on the floor. It was so gross.
Also, the other day this dude comes into the galley (plane kitchen) and can?t wait to for the bathroom so he whips his dick out (multiple people saw it) and peed into a carrier on the floor with linens in it.
Both times the police met the plane and I?m not sure what they got charged with. Apparently there is a pee problem with people on the plane now a days.
-Urine-soaked on United
I started dating this guy and for some reason we decided even though we?d only been dating about a month, it would be a good idea to go on a three day camping and hiking trip together. We were living in the UK at the time, and so we borrowed a tent and just kind of hiked through this national park and pitched it where ever. It actually ended up being a great trip, despite the odds being stacked against a third date that is three days walking through sheep fields and it was looking like things would work out.
The last day, we were waiting for a bus to take us back to our town: about a 45 minute ride. But the bus wasn?t coming for an hour so we sat at a pub and had some beers. Too many, apparently, because about five minutes into the bus ride I realized I really, really had to pee. We still had 40 minutes ahead of us. I tried to hold it, but the bumpy bus ride wasn?t helping. After about twenty minutes it was too much: I had to make a decision: either pee my pants on public transportation in front of a guy I had just started dating or ask the driver to stop the bus in the middle of nowhere as risk this new guy thinking I needed adult diapers to get through a 45 minute bus ride. I looked at the guy and was like, ?I?m so sorry, I have to get off.? and ran to the front of the bus and asked the driver to stop. The driver was told me, ?If you get off here, I can?t wait for you and there?s no more buses coming today.? It was at least five miles to town. I didn?t have time to think logically, my bladder was about to burst so I just said, ?YES JUST LET US OFF HERE.? The confused bus driver opened the door and dropped me and my now very confused and annoyed not-even-a-boyfriend off on the side of a rural road.
I peed in a bush and we started walking. I felt like a total idiot and I could tell he was really mad but didn?t want to say anything. We passed a pub so I asked if I could buy him a drink. At the bar, he told the bartender what happened, and the bartender offered to drive us the rest of the way home! We accepted and this random guy took us back in his car. I figured potentially getting kidnapped was probably better than having this guy mad at me, which is how you know it?s true love. It probably saved our relationship, because we ended up getting married! Me and the bartender, I mean. Just kidding.
-Bursting Bladder on the Bus