I’ve been debating whether or not to write this story. The subject matter… it’s just… well…
I’ve always playfully ascribed to the “girls don’t poop” motto… but we’re all adults here… we know that everyone poops, right?
We can call this story make-believe if you prefer to think otherwise, but I’ve held on to it long enough and I’m missing my cousins; one of whom is the star of this story, so it’s time for it to be told.
Meet Matt; “MattMatt” as I can’t help but call him despite him now being a 24 year old Citadel grad and a 1st Lieutenant with the US Army.
Matt and I have never lived in the same state but somehow he’s still one of my closest and very best friends. What a very blessed and lucky girl I am to have him.
Especially in the situation I’m about to describe for you…
A couple of years ago, Matt came up from good ol’ Louisiana to stay a few days with me. My apartment is tiny, so I built him a little bed in my living room and we spent the days laughing, (drinking), and hopping around town.
On one of the last mornings of Matt’s stay, we were drinking coffee watching CMT videos (I like to serenade him with songs he hates) and Matt got up and headed for the one bathroom I pay rent for, returning for a moment to ask if he could “finish off the toilet paper.”
“Yeah, I’m fine, we’ll run out for some in a little.”
About 5 minutes after his return, it hit me that I desperately needed the toilet paper I had so selflessly forfeited to him only minutes before – and I needed it immediately.
Fortunately, I live just two blocks away from the grocery store – two very walkable blocks – but being that the situation was quite dire, we jumped in the car (rather I kind of shimmied into the car), and drove the bumpy painful two roads over.
Originally the plan was to buy TP and head back home (I really hate public bathrooms), but time was slipping away and so I bee-lined for the Farm Fresh bathroom with Matt chuckling at my heels.
As the story of my life goes, I chose the stall without – shocker – toilet paper, and while I wouldn’t normally have a problem asking the person beside me to pass some under the stall, the woman beside me was having a …hard time… and I didn’t feel it appropriate to bother her.
Choking on my laughter so she didn’t think it was directed at her, I texted MattMatt, “would you believe that there’s no toilet paper in my stall and the woman beside me is clearly in distress!?” and I heard him burst out laughing in the hallway.
At this point y’all, I am really struggling not to laugh out loud, tears streaming down my face, shamefully hiding in my toilet paper-less stall – now feeling like a jail cell as I’m officially stranded – wondering how long I’ll have to wait before I can request a pass-off from the poor woman beside me.
Then, the bathroom heavens opened up and I heard the hinge of the main door followed by a painfully high-pitch voice, “Leaaaaaneeeee, where are youuuuuu?!”
MattMatt, my hero.
I couldn’t even see straight from laughing as hard as a laugh will silently laugh, frantically waving my hands underneath the stall door for the secret-man-in-the-women’s-room toilet paper handoff.
I imagine I hugged / high-fived / fist-bumped Matt in the hallway following that glorious save but I don’t remember. I do remember buying a mega-pack of toilet paper and going out for Mimosas.
If that doesn’t deserve greatest-cousin-in-the-world status, y’all… I don’t know what does.
I am so overwhelmingly thankful for family I also call friends…. and their willingness to venture into restricted territory in the name of cousinly love.
As a reminder though, girls don’t poop.