After two years of swearing off relationships, I recently decided to start dating again. I figured it was time to get serious about something besides my career pursuits and the latest episode of How I Met Your Mother. Plus, I just moved to a brand new city full of brand new men. The first few dates I went on were absolutely horrible. Sure, the guys were great and all, but I was sorely out of practice and mostly disinterested.
Then I met Hunter. He seriously had every quality I thought I wanted in a man. I found myself drawn to him within minutes.
After a few dates, we were both out on the town with our friends one Friday night, and we decided to try to meet up. I drove to pick him up since I was sober. On the way, I got stuck in Atlanta’s infamous bar traffic.
Hunter called me to tell me where he was waiting as I accelerated at a speed of less than one mile per hour. I told him that my phone had one percent battery left, so he better be there ready to hop in my car, especially since I was new in town and needed his help navigating once my phone died. I also briefly mentioned that I really had to use the bathroom.
Thirty minutes later, I was still in traffic, and I simply could not hold it any longer. Stuck in bumper-to-bumper hell with no way out, I looked around my car trying to figure out what I should do. And of course, for some reason, I thought, “Well, I do have a Chick-Fil-A cup, and I am wearing a dress…”
You can imagine what happened next. Surprisingly, the endeavor was largely successful. That is, until the cup overflowed. I could not make my steady stream stop for anything.
Five minutes later, I was driving right past poor Hunter who was patiently waiting for me under the Health Clinic billboard just like he had promised. I was mortified, but there was absolutely no way in hell I was letting him get in my car after only three dates.
So, here is the run-down:
- My phone is dead.
- I have no idea where I am.
- Hunter has no idea where I am.
- I am sitting in my own urine.
- It is 2:30 am in Atlanta, Georgia.
I’ll skip over the part where I got insanely lost and ended up thirty miles north of Atlanta at 4:00 am. This is followed by the part where I had to get a ride home from a sweet cab driver that only charged me thirty bucks.
I’ll also gloss over the part where I had to call friends I had only known for a month at that point the next morning to ask if they could drive me to my car.
I know what you’re really wondering. What happened with Hunter?
Of course, I did not tell him that I peed my pants. I just told him that I got lost and my phone died and I was so sorry. Much to my friend Caleb’s dismay, this worked, and Hunter and I continued dating. Caleb was upset with me. He encouraged me to tell Hunter the truth about my ridiculous saga because awkward and hilarious stories like that are what make me the awkward and hilarious girl that I am. But I never did tell Hunter the truth, and eventually he realized how much of a weirdo I am without me having to tell him the “I peed my pants in my car” story.
What are my takeaways from this whole experience?
- Always have a car charger.
- Always wear a dress, just in case.
- Always order the largest cup size available when you get fast food.
- Always be nice to your cab drivers.
- Don’t be ashamed to tell someone the truth about your own “I peed my pants in my car” story. Honesty is always the best policy, and it is a great way to figure out whether someone in your life is worth keeping around. The keepers are the people who will laugh with you (thanks, Caleb), and they are the ones who will pick you up at 9 am on a Saturday in all of your pathetic misery to go find your car in some random, far-away land (thanks, Katie).