The Morning After: The Nerves Won
After four long and frustrating years of sexual tension, my high school crush and I finally had our first hot makeout sesh the first week of college. That is if you consider making out with some nature special about tarantulas playing in the background to be hot. Regardless, it happened and I was oh so excited. I didn’t want to take things too far that first night, so I acted coy, pushed him away, buttoned up my shirt and left.
We spent the next week flirting on IM and, since he lived in the dorm next to me, running into each other randomly on the way to class. Ok, so maybe it wasn’t so random. Maybe I spent a lot of time outside hoping he’d walk by. Either way, he called me on a Friday night and asked if he could come over.
My roommate packed a bag for the night and shipped off to our friend’s futon down the hall. She was so excited for me, but even more excited to have her first official Sexiling. I, on the other hand, was nervous for the events to come. I had never really done much with a guy before that, so the fear of doing something wrong or, worse, letting him know how inexperienced I was took over. I paced the 10X12 room as I waited for him to call. I lit some candles then blew them out. I created a playlist to set the mood then deleted it. I changed my outfit 4 times.
And then the phone rang.
He was outside the side door of the building and asked me to come down and let him in. I took one last look in the mirror, gave myself a little pep talk (“You’ve practiced on a popsicle – blow jobs can’t be that hard!”) and ran down the four flights of stairs to let him in.
Somewhere around the second landing my stomach started to hurt. All my life my stomach was the first part of me to react to nerves, and at that particular moment, it was reacting with a vengeance.
“I’m going to crap my pants,” I thought to myself. “I can’t have him come to my room and then leave him there while I run to the bathroom to poop.” I had to take care of it immediately.
I ran (literally) to the public bathroom on the main floor of my dorm and made it just in time. The minute I sat down, my nerves exploded into the bowl. I probably could have and should have stayed in there a little longer, but I couldn’t make the boy wait forever. I cleaned up, washed my hands and wiped the sweat from my forehead.
After letting the boy into the building, we made our way back to the stairs to head to my room.
“Oh my god,” he said as we walked past the bathroom. “Someone should really do something about that smell.”
Mortified, I pushed him along, my stomachache returning. We eventually made it to my room where we put on the TV and snuggled in bed. That is, until I could hold it no longer and had to excuse myself to use the bathroom on my hall.
When I came back, green in the face, I told him I wasn’t feeling well and sent him back to his dorm.
My roommate slept down the hall that night while I slept alone with a heating pad on my stomach. I didn’t experience my first real college hook up and she didn’t get her first real Sexile. She was poopiled.
I poopiled my roommate.