I had just turned 30 and was so filled with confidence and pleased with my life. In the week and got a clean bill of health I happened to visit my doctor earlier, blood count, blood circulation pressure, and sperm only thing I had asked for was suggestions to curb my farting (incidentally, the feminine doctor’s expression was priceless). She suggests I really do a colonic cleanser, on the weekend and she gives me these things and says try it. I go on it and forget about it. On my way out, I meet the incredibly hot receptionist I have had my eye for a while. So, full of testosterone and confidence, I commit to the Kamikaze suicidal mission of asking her out.
To my surprise, she says yes. We set a date for the next day. I forget about it and go have drinks with my mates and return early the next morning with a hangover. I wake up midday, regroup, run errands, and then follow the doctor’s orders by taking that damn colon cleanser at around 5 p.m.
Six p.m. comes around and guess who calls: Yes, the cute receptionist asking what time I should pick her up. She tells me how she was so happy that I asked her out. I pick her up take her to the restaurant, and it’s smooth sailing, right? Wrong.
Midway through dinner, you guessed it – rumble in the jungle.
With absolutely no warning, sensations I would not wish on my enemy overtake me. Forget waterboarding – give that colonic cleanser to terrorists, and they will let it out (the information, I mean). Anyway, I take it to the men’s room, and I barely got there in time.
After 10 minutes in there of nonstop involuntary release, I called the manager, tip her $100 explain my situation , which, by the smell, she had no problem believing.
She called a limo service to take my date home, and I texted her that I felt sick and arranged for her ride. No reply from her, but the manager said she had explained and the lady left.
You would think that was the end, right? Wrong.
After an hour, I finally get things under control, I pay my bill, tipped really well for the odors I left, and for them not calling the paramedics, and I do my walk of shame out the restaurant to my car. All I want is to get home to my own bathroom and call my doctor and give her an ear full, but at my car stands the cute receptionist.
She thought I had ditched her and had made a decision to wait me out seriously. I cannot recall that conversation – she actually is Spanish and incredibly vocal – but.I recall she was thrown by me in the auto and rushed home. Night on my camode I spent the entire, normal water in bottles and watching Netflix on my laptop.
In the morning However, she was there on the couch still, snoring away, and we have been dating since. Obviously, I hate the question “How did you guys meet?”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *