Rug-Burn...

I love this story. Maybe because, in a strange way, I can relate.

A friend of mine, let’s call him James, had been interested in a girl for quite some time. The problem was that they had been friends for years, and he didn’t know if she felt the same way, or if it was all in his head. I think we’ve all been there before, when you feel like your sensors are on the fritz and you just can’t interpret the signals properly. Finally, they decided to get together and watch a movie at her place. Now, this was good news for James, because they had never spent time alone together (I think "alone together" is a funny phrase) and the best part was that it had been her idea. For once, they wouldn’t be surrounded by all their friends, and he could try to gauge the situation.

So they’re watching a flic in her basement - things are going well - when suddenly James feels his stomach cramp. Not good. With a sickening feeling (that I know all too well), he realizes that if he doesn’t go straight to the bathroom, there will be terrible repercussions. Now, any guy will tell you that using the bathroom at a girl’s house is a delicate matter. There’s a definite comfort level that must be reached before it can even be considered. And at this point, on their first real date, and with his insides gone super-nova, the idea of desecrating her toilet is about as appealing as a nudist fish-fry. He tries to hold it for as long as he can, but it’s just no good, he knows that this feeling is not going to pass. Finally, as casually as he can, he asks where the bathroom is. She points to the door across the room. Of course, this is the last thing he wants to hear. If only the bathroom were upstairs… out of range. As far as he’s concerned, it would be ideal if the bathroom were in a different house.

His soul full of doubt and trepidation, he heads slowly for the bathroom. He decides that he’s going to try to get this done as fast as possible, so that maybe he can make the whole venture seem like one long pee. He makes his deposit as quickly as he can without pulling a muscle, while staging a coughing fit to try and cover any untoward noises. Everything is going according to schedule. He is beginning to feel confident that everything is going to work out fine (so to speak), when he realizes that there is no toilet paper in sight. He looks to he left... he looks to his right. No relief in sight. Gingerly, he opens the cupboard under the sink. Nothing. He performs the pants-around-the-ankles-dirty-assed waddle over to the closet to check for supplies. Nada. He scans the whole bathroom and there isn’t even a magazine to help him through.

The clock is ticking. It’s around this point that James starts to panic. In fact, if he hadn’t already, he probably would have lost his shit. I think it would be safe to say that James abandoned all capacity for rational thought. All he could imagine was his potential girlfriend sitting in the other room wondering why he was taking so long. The idea of popping his head out to ask for more toilet paper either didn’t occur to him, or else it just seemed too far beyond embarrassment to even contemplate.

Instead, in his now frantic state, a different solution occurs to him. Pulling out a Swiss Army Knife, he gets down on his hands and knees and cuts a piece of carpet from behind the toilet. He then proceeds to wipe himself with a swath of prime, 1970’s orange shag. I don’t think it’s exactly necessary to point out that behind the toilet is never the most sanitary area in the bathroom either: guys always miss. But at this point, he just doesn’t care. As far as he’s concerned, his problem is solved. In fact, he’s proud of his resourcefulness.

He calms himself and returns to the rec-room, where this poor girl has been sitting with the movie paused, unaware of the drama unfolding in the washroom. "Are you ok?" she asks. "Yeah, yeah," he says, as non-chalantly as possible. He even uses his new found adrenaline rush to snuggle in closer to her for the rest of the movie.

About an hour later, the girl’s father gets home and comes downstairs to say hello. He sits and chats for a minute and then heads for the bathroom. James isn’t worried until he runs out shouting, "Where’s the plunger, the toilet’s flooding!" James slowly shrinks back into the corner of the couch. He is seriously considering cutting his losses and trying to make a stealthy escape when her father shouts from the bathroom, "Jesus Christ! There’s a God-Damn piece of carpet in here!"

And the best part is, last I heard, they’re still together.