I had gone out with "Mr. IBS" a few times already leading up to this night. I didn't know how serious his stomach issues were but on a previous date we had gone for Mexican and immediately after dinner he went to the bathroom for a prolonged amount of time. It was not indicative of a number one.
The night in question, and I say in question because I still don't have solid proof, we had gone to a local bar for food and drinks. I definitely had my fair share of cocktails and by the time he took me home I was a bit drunk.
I was back at home with the parents, dating's worse nightmare, but they were in bed so I invited him in. My parents’ house is a rancher, their bedroom is at the one end of the house and the living room is closer to the other end. The bathroom is in the laundry room area which is at the very opposite end of their bedroom.
"IBS" and I were watching TV on the couch and next thing you know we're kissing. Now listen I was drunk, but this I do know for sure, the make out session was pretty good. Now it could have been good because of the Southern Comfort I drank or maybe "IBS" knew a thing or two...I'm going to go with SoCo being the real culprit here. Now when you're making out with a guy and they suddenly get up to go to the bathroom a few things run through your mind. a. He really has to pee because of all the beer he drank. b. Maybe he has a major hard on and needs to calm himself down. or c. Maybe he's not enjoying himself and is looking for an exit strategy.
I sat on the couch waiting for him to return and dude was taking forever to come back. I swear five minutes went by (which in drunk time could have been three) but either way it was again not a number one type of bathroom trip. I tip toed to the back to where the bathroom was and placed my ear up to the door. I couldn't quite make out the noises I was hearing. There was some grunting, some moaning and what sounded like heavy breathing. I made my way back to the living room and just sat there trying to figure out what the fuck was going on in there. Was he jerking off? Was I that good he had to run to the bathroom and take care of business???
Finally he emerged from the bathroom. He was clammy, and beads of sweat had formed on his forehead...think Ben Stiller in "Along Came Polly." He didn't seem to want to kiss anymore and I was stumped. What was wrong with "IBS"? Was it something I did? Was he sick to his stomach? He left shortly thereafter and I did what any other drunk, confused woman would do...I inspected the bathroom looking for signs of what had gone down in there. The only noticeable difference was a good amount of balled up toilet paper in the trash can, that was it!
I was stumped, crawled into bed and called it a night.
The next day I called my best friend to go over the details of my date. I explained that he was in the bathroom for a long period of time, and when he came out he was sweating. Now my best friend, who shall remain nameless, has some stomach issues. The bitch is pratically an expert when it comes to this stuff. Without hesitation she said he had a case of irritable bowel syndrome...basically dude blew up my mom's toilet. What is so very, very odd to me is there was no scent or sign of a blow up, just those balled up pieces of toilet paper in the trash can. So I ask...was it IBS or something else? I guess I will never know.
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