Pooping at your Significant Other's House within First 2 Months of Dating

(preferably in t

I forgot about the sentence length cutoff -- shoulda said "preferably in the bathroom"

Shit in their sink and then take a shower w/o wiping first.

you're dating G.G. Allin i see....

(preferably in t

This is not how tea is drunk in England.

once a particularly nutty acquaintance announced shortly after a breakup that he had left her because one night he heard her taking a shit and he couldn't love her any more after that. they'd been together about 8 years or something?

this conversation kept repeating on a loop in my head the next time i was on a date when a meal decided to provide some bad consequences for my digestive tract and DATE PARTNER was loitering in the hallway right outside the bathroom door for like ever HI PLEASE GO FURTHER AWAY THANKS

lol after 8 years? jesus....my ex and I were comfortable talking about BMs with each other at like the 6 month stage. That's a bizarre reason to stop seeing someone! course my g/f had a crazy stomach but like she was a freak in the sack so like I didn't care

I think the one time I shat at my ex's in the early stages was while she was asleep....

i can't help but feel that post is missing the word 'flange'

6 months is a long time to go without talking about poop

we talked about it, it just wasn't until then that we'd walk out and blatantly go "man I just took a shit".

I hold that you don't truly love someone until they've farted in your face and you find it endearing.

after-8-years dude (maybe it was 6 years but we're talking a long time) was pretty crazy, it's true

he then promptly moved in with an American girl half his age who was loud and crude and always ranting how terrible everything British was and got pass-out/puking drunk every night, so I am kind of surprised she apparently produced fewer disgusting noises, but maybe it's just not such a shock if you don't have to wait several years

finding "(preferably in t" funnier than I should

Automatic thread bump. This poll is closing tomorrow.

Automatic thread bump. This poll's results are now in.

some of these options seem a little far-fetched tbf

poop

literally speaking, what is the biggest bullshit you fell for in the 90s

I can't believe no one chose any of the lower 4 options. I think farts and poop are hilarious and I'll laugh all day if a guy I just started hanging out with lets one rip or makes a stinky or noisy poop in my bathroom but I have a bit of a double standard for myself. I try to hold back for as long as possible until it is completely unavoidable. Or only let them hear the cute farts... or something. knowhwatimtalkingabout?

the "cute farts"?

They were an obscure new wave band...

...not to be confused with The Sic F*cks.

Current bf is the FIRST one I have ever NOT felt super awkward about this stuff with. Previously dated someone who lived in a studio apt and I would make up reasons to go out and use a public bathroom, which even then I realized was ridic but I felt like HE would be embarrassed if I mentioned it, so I didn't. Current partner could care less, so I don't have to care either.

I can't believe no one chose any of the lower 4 options. I think farts and poop are hilarious and I'll laugh all day if a guy I just started hanging out with lets one rip or makes a stinky or noisy poop in my bathroom but I have a bit of a double standard for myself. I try to hold back for as long as possible until it is completely unavoidable. Or only let them hear the cute farts... or something. knowhwatimtalkingabout?

― peacocks, Wednesday, April 21, 2010 4:19 PM bookmarkflaglink

the "cute farts"?

― HI DERE, Wednesday, April 21, 2010 4:20 PM bookmarkflaglink

http://www.jacklynch.net/Texts/dressing.html
don't remember reading this before, story I heard was taht jonathan Swift became obsessed with the idea that his beloved shat in a totally negative way verging on the pathological. Seems he may have just wrote a satire on the level of artifice in an 18th century society woman's dressing habits. But it does contain the line about Celia shits which is presented as the revelation the protagonist can't deal with.

this is a terrible story that should probably remain untold, but the second time i stayed with one girl, i'd spent the whole day trying not to poop, but then i woke up in the middle of the night with my stomach cramping so badly and feeling like i was going to die unless i went the toilet. i made my way to the bathroom in the dark but then could just not find the light switch when i got in there. truth be told i was actually quite drunk, but i later discovered the switch was outside the room (seriously who would do that?). was absolutely desperate by this stage, so i pulled down my underwear and then felt around in the gloom for the toilet. finally i make contact with cold porcelain, so i perched over it and with great relief i released the matter that had been so troubling to my innards. relief quickly turned to befuddlement when i then could find neither the toilet paper or the chain, so i pulled my underwear back on without wiping and confusedly shuffled back to bed. you can't even imagine how mortified i was when i woke the next day to find i'd taken a crap in the bathtub, and not only that, her flatmate had already woken up and gone out to work before i even had the chance to dispose of the offending article :(

o...m.....g

i'm so sorry :(

i have so many questions

great revive

did she eat the booty

like i'm just wondering what the follow-up convo was

"honey what's that smell?"

"honey did you make a boom boom in the bathtub?"

Picturing a Three's Company-esque cover-up wherein you rushed back into your ladyfriend's room to express disgust at her roommate's bathroom habits, followed by catching the roommate coming back home and apologizing profusely for your ladyfriend's lack of proper bathroom etiquette.

and then Mr Roper blasting everybody with a shotgun

this would be the series finale

At any rate, cheers on still being around to write that post because I'm certain that I would have just spontaneously died under those circumstances.

:D

I swear, crawling back in bed unwiped is what's really bothering me here

I mean this one time in college one of my art classes was meeting outside to sketch in the midst of this tranquil, bucolic meadow and I sat down too hard and farted and subsequently went into a shame-induced coma for four-and-a-half years so I can't even imagine.

"honey, I bought you a new set of bedding today!"

"ahh, sweetie, you're the be-"

"now let me explain why"

I Just Pooped in Your Bathtub, and That's Okay, and Here's Why

^great Kid Cudi mixtape

haha!

ts old nick vs old nick shit-the-bath

one of the first nights i spent with my ex-wife ended with some unfortunate gastric issues leading to awkwardness.

i met my ex-wife one night in the pub, she was on holiday and it was her last night in glasgow, so we only spent a few hours together, made out a bit, exchanged email addresses. she went on to belfast and then london and then back home to vancouver. we kept in touch via email, emailing each other multiple times a day for a few months, then she came to visit me.

she obviously didn't know me all that well so she booked a nice airbnb suite in what is essentially a traditional bred and breakfast in a townhouse in the west end of glasgow. a room with an en suite bathroom. rather than staying with me.

she came at the end of december, we had a nice time the first few days, things were going great and we were young and in love. in glasgow lots of stuff is closed on new years day and the day after. so we ended up getting a kebab one night as all the restos seemed to be closed as we walked along the streets. it wasn't the greatest kebab but it sat fine with me. we got back to the airbnb and probably fooled around, then we went to sleep.

i slept like a log and woke at 9 or 10 the next day. i jumped up, and took a shower. when i came back into the room my ex-wife wasn't there. this was confusing. there wasn't really anywhere for her to go outside of the room, there were tea and coffee in the room and a breakfast brought to your room if you opted in (which she hadn't), but no communal kitchen for you to just drop into, and there were no bathrooms in the hall.

i heard knocking on the door, i answered it, it was my ex-wife just in the oversized t-shirt she had worn to bed, she said "hello!' in a jocular manner and came in. i looked at her quizzically and she laughed a little. i decided not to question her on why she had gone out there, despite finding it strange.

fast-forward maybe 15 months. my ex-wife and i are now married and living in vancouver. we're drinking at a friend's place. my ex teases her friend about something and the friend threatens to tell me "the story". my ex replies in an exasperate tone "i told you not to say anything!" or whatever, but quickly relents, and elects to do the telling of the story as she knows it better than the friend:

the kebab had sat quite badly with my ex-wife. not at first. but she woke in the middle of the night and went to the toilet and had a bout of explosive diarrhea. she was thankful that I'm a heavy sleeper and seemed to sleep through it (i did sleep through it). the next morning when i got up and jumped into the shower her stomach started gurgling. she needed to shit, and she needed to shit within the next 10-30 seconds. she immediately decided she couldn't interrupt my shower, tell me what's happening, and get me to leave the bathroom, and do the deed in the toilet. it's too early in the relationship for such intimacy. she ran around the bedroom in a panic. she considered sticking her ass out of the window. the window looked out on literally hundreds of other windows, and below it was the back garden of the residence. a very bad place to take a shit. she's drenched in sweat, her eyes darted around the room. there is a small wicker basket with a plastic bag in it. a bin. she can no longer hold on. she squats over it and shits into the plastic bag in the basket. sweet relief. now she has a plastic bag full of diarrhea. the shower has just stopped running. she takes the plastic bag and leaves the room. she's now in the hallway, there's nothing there to help her. she sees a utility cupboard, goes into it, doesn't feel right leaving the plastic bag there.

then she sees a mini-fridge sitting outside a room. it is unplugged and the door is closed. she puts the bag in the fridge. she decides that she will come back and get it later and dispose of it correctly somehow. she goes to re-enter the bedroom but the door has locked itself. she knocks on the door, i open it up and let her in.

so she showers, we go out together, she returns to the place while i go home to get a change of clothes and shave. she comes into the hallway. the fridge is gone.

when she checked out of the airbnb a few days later i was with her. there was an awkwardness about the process. we had been having a lot of sex in the room and not that quietly so i assume maybe the staff member has overheard us and is a bit shy or something. in hindsight she was clearly thinking "one of you put diarrhea in a plastic bag into a mini fridge".

Thank you Nick and Jim for making me crack up on the train twice with stories entirely appropriate for my screen name

Omfg

Hahaha oh jesus!

this is why i still read ilx

fantastic stuff

my brother had major intestinal issues for a while and one night he was going at it with this girl he'd met and they started having sex, when his belly rumbled. so he excused himself in the middle of coitus, thinking it'd be like, a quit dump-out, wipe, and return to sexing, but he obliterated the toilet, so their sexy times were over. I think he went home after.

so he has a make-up hangout with the same girl a few nights later. they start fooling around again, and just as they get into it, the same thing happens. his stomach is knotted and he basically sprints to the bathroom and once again, nuked it to where their date was over. at this point, the two of them gave up trying to fuck, and my brother went to a GI doc.

this was only known by 2-3 people until his friends decided to throw him a roast for his 30th birthday (cos he's a theatre guy) and it was revealed to everybody during said roast.

two mates came down to visit me whem i lived out west, we'd all gone to school together. out for pints, its good. new pub, not a bother. they leave a basket of fried food on each table, jaysus thats great horsed it into us. few more pints.

off to the late bar. first round in. lovely. im halfway through first daycent swallow and it hits and i know im done, i know when and i know how. ive been in the jacks at coxes, im not dying in there fuck that and i literally sprint from the lads to the taxi rank outside as i gamble on making the two minutes home against the 25 quid soiling charge.

i bubble all the way home, it was like keeping a thrashing snake in.

i tip the taxi 5x because there's no way i make the time it takes to count change. i burst in the door, thank christ the lower toilet is right under the stairs. i make it in the door, i make it as far as getting my pants down and ass over bowl and i just fucking unleash

unfortunately, hands out hard against each wall in the understair loo, i also puke with enough force that the splashback manages to hit me in the face.

this carries on for a brief but unforgettable moment and im spent.

im ok enough to clean up somewhat before hitting the sack for the night.

the next day the lads tell me about their night.

two exits, no waiting

'out west' <3

they noted my exit but got over it (days before mobiles, when youre gone youre gone).

they made it through the late bar and ran into a fella from down home. hed made it pretty good in the buildings and kept a house in town that he had the other couple of lads he was out with staying in while they worked for him, them and the missuses. all is cordial and the expected invite to come back and carry on the craic is extended and accepted.

all well for the few hours and the two lads are left on the couch in the sitting room for the night.

the sensible lad wakes up not feeling the best, and whatever way the plumbing is cast in him he got off lightly enough to just puke up into the coal bucket. fairly standard stuff tbh. back to sleep after.

the other fella is slight and takes more on board than he maybe should, hes not fully with it when the curse hits him. he gets to the bathroom and starts at it. at some stage the feel of clothes on his skin causes such distress that he strips naked.

he says at one stage he was just being flung around by internal forces like an unattended fire hose. no surface, no cranny escapes. he says he stood in the bath, naked but wrapped in a shower curtain, still shitting and vomiting, crying, thinking he couldnt be used like this and live. eventually he is spent.

he tried, he says, to clean up. he was still drunk at this stage, so his best recollection as to how these efforts manifested themselves involved all the towels being pushed around the floor with him on hands and knees. he knows this isnt going to cut it.

he murkily considers as best he can his options. towels into bath. walls and floor and bath and units left smeared in shit and puke. nothing to be down. a man would need to be at his best to face the full knowledge of his innards, his trial and his ownership of such destruction and this lad is not at his best right now.

fuck it. back into living room, shakes the buck awake.

"we have to go". nobody up yet, they sneak off into the reddening dawn.

the sensible fella tbf empties and rinsed the coalbucket before leaving, still unaware of the bestial havoc awaiting the residents.

three years pass, they dont be home a lot, the sensible lad lives next door to the builder. very taciturn guy. never a word not needed out of him. sees him the next christmas, says im sorry about the coal bucket.

thats ok.

he doesnt say sorry about anything else. message delivered. message understood. island life moves on.

crying here

as i said, three years later.

down the island now. paddys or stephens or whit, one of the weekends everyone does be home for

theres only one nightclub on the island. its the builder's end of the island, not the buck's. oh that matters. matters so that the buck hasnt set foot past his own village since. most of the lads able to batter you around the place would have work off our builder now or again and that matters too. but eventually he has to brave it, weve long forgotten the story and we're home and we're going down on the minibus after our local closes like its 1998 again.

after we arrive in, our boy is in fits. every look he gets from a local, hes dying. agonied. internal monologue flaying him. everyone knows. course they do. theyre all watching me. the dirty rag. the animal. the shower curtain and all. left it that way. his mother is very decent god help her though.

he hardly opens his mouth all night to anyone, waiting for something to kick off.

builder is in the place at some stage. was over talking to one or two in the group, waved a hi to all. all friends here. did he flicker over the buck a moment? hard to say.

the buck essays a few noncommittal words. ok. no furious outburst. no just ignoring him. standard responses, short but the man was never a talker. fuck.

fuck, the relief. its going fine. oh god thank fuck. jesus. shouldve come down since. shouldve gone over the next day. brought flowers or some shit for the girls if nothing else, but time passes, hes a busy man. important man. water under bridges. lots on his mind.

i hear hes rented twenty houses up there now. jesus he probably lost count of gaffs wrecked one way or another. or yknow man of the world, weve all had our wild nights god knows. say no more fan chrisht dont carry on over it.

oh jesus its fine. oh i was dreading it.

all night the group ebbs and flows and not a cross word anyone to anyone. by the time the lights come on and we stand for the anthem our man is fully back to his usual self, relaxed and chatting away all round.

builder up to leave. handshakes all round, nothing to intimate hes a guy we know from school nothing closer.

his hand falls into the buck's.

clenches like a vice in a warrior clasp.

hauls him physically up and over the table (the buck is very slight- bought his wranglers in the girls section upstairs at faddens until he was well into his late teens. he denies it yet but i was there) and wraps him in an assured and intimate embrace.

other hand encloses him and draws the back of his head so that his ear is right up against island builder killer lips which hissssssssss iknowwhatyoudidtomyhouseyoucunnntttt and drops him like a wrung rag to the floor of club. exit builder, face like granite and jaw set to kill a fucker in his way.

the buck doesnt gain composure enough to carry himself out, two of us have to do it.

only three of us have any idea why, everyone else in the group mystified to this day. weve let them think it was over a woman- would be in character for both parties, and that way mine and coalbuckets's wives (present on night) dont have to think about how he caused two grand worth of damage to an ensuite with his bodily fluids at the turn of the millenium.

we went back to the original place, the one with the basket of food that detonated later on, only once more

the buck got overly excited during a discussion on football and the bouncer ejected him for and i quote "braying like an ass"

we had been the only two people in the entire establishment.

man, fuck that place

lock ilx

otm

greatest story ever told

what do the buck and the sensible lad call *you* though

thats not even what i call them

i leave no trace, unlike the two lads

not even 'the fucking goal-scorer ffs' ?

its fair to say they know where to play me but twouldnt be the first characteristic that occurred after thirty years

Celtic Dick

This is the sequel to the Red Riding Trilogy

marginally fewer victims

Oh christ man

great revive

― Titanic was cliched Marxist crap. (bizarro gazzara), Thursday, 7 November 2019 14:30 (yesterday) bookmarkflaglink

spending the weekend with the two lads

will pass on rgds

Have you considered writing an anonymous memoir at any point

this may be it tbh

this is incredible, yr detail of rural pub life and chat and all that

I only just read jim’s one about the fridge and Im in bits between ye both

ill tell you who was in bits between us both, the buck was

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EhFRPSPXcAILXJJ?format=png&name=large

"it's the ole POOP IN COOKING EQUIPMENT prank!"

lol of course it's Miranda July, creator of "pooping back and forth"

what the hell

i'm almost as bothered by the superfluous "from my point of view,"

"from my point of view, I had to shit in a pressing way. From another's, I was ruining his scrambled eggs"

In galway tonight with the two lads, will take it easy just in case

A dumb story - A friend of mine fell for a guy who lived in New York, he came to London to visit her for the first time to and stay in her little flat in Shepherd's Bush. So he gets there all fine and well, and the next morning she goes off to work, our guy shakes off his jet lag, goes and takes a poop and for some reason, it absolutely would not flush away and remained determinedly buoyant.

So he's panicking all day about how to cope with getting this poo situation squared away.

In the end, it's all fine, everyone laughs about it later, but as a result, we started to wonder if there was perhaps some sort of compatibility issues between US and UK poo, like a kinda PAL vs NTSC thing? And if he'd have to start eating London food for it to work out.

Drape in loo roll and once thus snagged flush to oblivion