Heart-Breaking the Seal

"The Untold Perspective of Feces Fiasco" by Ohio R.

The following is the rebuttal to a dear friend on a funny incident she experienced with, at the time, a new companion. Some of you may recall Josie's very first blog "breaktheseal" - a sad tale about a date gone very wrong. This is all in fun and not an attempt to upset or infuriate either party involved.

An initial intimate meeting between opposite gender's is composed of fascination with one another. It is more or less an interview session sprinkled with a little chit chat. Depending on if it goes good there is a possibility of romance. Unfortunately there is another obstacle. I like to call it Stage One. It's all good if it's a successful battle for the male.

The man has to be perfect (according to that particular female's idea of perfection). One slip up of any occurrence that appalls the female and the man is doomed. Lick your wounds and keep on keeping on. Thanks to society [sarcasm] it makes it tough for a guy to overcome this obstacle. Success happens rarely. Someone tell the Beatles this is where the lonely people come from. Those men who make it past the first stage have it made. Once the female gets a perfect picture of you, you are golden. You will never have to be golden again, silver, even the bronze will survive. Warning, it can be the smallest of things that destroys chance. Note, I am an expert on this matter and the following story will give you proof.

I have known this silly and outlandish girl for a short period of time. My friends thought I was retarded for using my masterful pick up line, but they were so wrong. Being the sagacious soul that I am, I pulled out my best repartee when I first approached her.

me: "Yo, I'm Mr. Right, I heard you were looking for me?" (I know great artillery!)

her: "Really..."

me: "I have to apologize for my timeliness. You were hard to find but I finally made it."

her: "are you a friend of Lacy's?"

After complimenting her on her looks and cowboy boots, the conversation took off from there like Apollo 13. It is my belief that some kind of connection surfaced. I thought is there a better way to become acquainted with one another than drinking? Lose that edge. Laugh. Be social. Mexican was the venue of choice since the restaurant I had in mind offered a nice patio. After a few margaritas and tortilla soup you had to eat with a fork, I suggested going somewhere to finish the cheap leftover beer in my trunk. Someone had to drink it. It had been lingering in my trunk for a week. At the time I didn’t think that raunchy, warm beer mixed with Mexican food would be my demise. Once we get back to her place I quickly try to get our drinks to beer temperature. Not an easy task since she wanted one right away. Josie had a nice cozy crib with more pictures than a photo album. It took me half an hour to examine each kodak. You would be lucky to find a single photo at my place – with the exception of my incredible find of a painting consisting of dogs playing poker. It makes me laugh. Could you imagine dogs being human? Okay, the story continues. We sit on J's patio enjoying the now somewhat cold brews. We are reminiscing of past memoirs and sagas. Conversation was flowing like the waters of the Arkansas river when all of a sudden I felt my stomach turning and there was something creeping out of my anus. At this point I tried to keep my composure until little mama finished her rant. All I could think about was how much I hated bad beer and tacos. Lord, please don’t let me shit my pants. That would definitely ruin any chance with her if I smelled like shit and I don’t want her to witness my shit stains if I end up getting play. Her rant continues for what seemed like an hour. So I thought of ideas to cover up the shit stain if she saw it later. Maybe I'll tell her that's the new design of boxers or maybe I can flush them down her toilet. But what if it clogs? What if she thinks I'm weird for not having any draws on? Finally she suggests changing the music. Yes! Lucky me. She goes in to change the music and I proceed to excuse myself to "break the seal." I am quick to drop my pants and check for skid marks. I jump on the porcelain like I was trying to adjust the height of an office chair. PLOP PLOP! AWWWWW!!! I made it quick so she didn’t expect I pooped in her house. I quickly wiped and flushed that evil feces. As I was watching the slow draining of my processed carna asada I sprayed a little cologne to cover the smell. Always carry around a small ration just in case. I did a second flush to be safe and scurried back to the rendezvous. Out on the patio I'm ready to contribute fully to our tete-a-tete. All is well for now. She then suggests that she must "break my(her) seal." As I await her return, I question if my two flushes got the job done. Oh yea, of course it got the job done. But what if it didn’t? She would say something, guaranteed. She reappears after being gone for a minute. I question whether she had to dump a load as well. Our conversation continued with awkwardness. We were both quiet in an attempt not to stir up any shit. Yup, I realize by her change in mood she found my stool. As Murphy's law goes "If there is a worse time for something to go wrong, it will happen then." How can I possibly salvage this? The situation was never mentioned for the remainder of the night and I left with a mere peck on the cheek. So much for the play.

In the end I never got another chance with her because of the simplest incident that opposed her. Lesson here guys, be perfect at first then you will have no worries about developing a meaningful relationship with a girl you adore. Also, don’t shit at a girls house you just met. Go outside behind a tree or anything to cover up.

In ending here is the thought of the day:
If you shoot at a mime, do you use a silencer?