Dating, What The F*ck? Poop Stories!

Photo courtesy of

Question for my daters out there: If you have to poop and you are just beginning to date someone, will you or won’t you poop at their place of residence or hold it until you get home?

Now, let me tell you something: If I have to go, I have to go, and I will poop in my toilet, or my date’s toilet, or a public restroom, or even a porta-potty, etc. It doesn’t matter to me!

I met a guy at a restaurant for our first date and it went pretty well. Let’s call this guy Nick. I decided to invite Nick over to my apartment so that I could cook him dinner. Now this is literally our second date. He lived in the city as I did, but he didn’t have a car, and I did. Well, this guy had to take a dump badly and didn’t want to do it at my place. He confessed this to me, so that meant I had to quickly jump behind the wheel of my automobile and drive his ass around the city to find a public bathroom for him to take a shit in. I am not lying when I tell you the first coffee shop or gas station I pulled into wasn’t to his satisfaction, so I had to drive to another place with an available little boys’ room.

Was this really happening to me? Never in a million years did I ever think I would be driving someone around the city to take a shit. Okay readers, what do you consider more embarrassing? Having to use your date’s toilet or having to tell your date that you have to move your bowels, you don’t want to do it in their place of residence, and you need them to find you another place to take a crap? Please send in your answers.

Now, I have another defecation story for you but it is the total opposite of the one I just told you. From what seems like a hundred years ago (thank God), my ex-boyfriend and I were in New Hampshire at the beach. Let’s call this ex Ted. At the time, we both lived in Massachusetts, which is a 45-minute drive from the beach. I was the driver that day, and right after we started our journey home, Ted all of sudden needed to go number 2. Now, unlike Nick, Ted wouldn’t sit on a toilet used by the public and needed to get home ASAP so he could sit on his porcelain throne. I kid you not when I say he stressed me the fuck out and made me speed home. He was losing his mind probably because he was quickly going to lose the fecal matter out of his butt in a matter of minutes, if not seconds!

Yes, you heard it right, folks; I was the chauffeur to two men who were very particular about where they placed their butt cheeks when it came to the can.

This is my last story about fecal matter, I promise. I was dating a guy who had the worst cleaning skills of any man I knew. Now when I tell you he was gross, I fuckin’ mean it. His kitchen sink was filth all the time! There were always dirty dishes just sitting there for days and weeks at a time! Also, his toilet was always covered with feces spots! Get this! I had to squat when I went to the bathroom at his place. Lastly, he was a daily participant in leaving racing stripes in his underwear! For those of you who have never heard of a racing stripe, it is a stripe of poop left in a pair of underwear because the wiping of the undergarment owner’s dirty ass wasn’t thorough enough.

Okay, so we have come to the end of my poop flashbacks. I am sure you all enjoyed those three stories and probably have some yourself.