After an evening of debauchery came a long night of gluttony. The food was wonderful. Italian in the mountains, it was surprisingly good, and a rarer find.
We stepped out to skywatching and whisper under the stars. I always try to look out for Orion, another story for another time though. I wished to go back to our room to resume love making, and so we did.
For me that’s what vacations are about. Indulgence. Food, Sex, Sleep, Wine. Not necessarily in that order. Life is for the living, they say. There are never perfect moments; but there are moments you can make them memorable, and perhaps perfect.
And after long sinful night of perversions, I woke up to gurgling sound of toilet being flushed; and in that frightening moment, realizing, as I tightly clinched my ass cheeks, that I wasn’t awakened by the whistling sound of a toilet flush but my body’s physiological need to relieve itself.
Men and women, since time immemorial, have displayed love in myriads of ways.
Romeo and Juliet consumed poison. Suicide.
Jahangir killed Nur Jahan’s husband. Murder.
Marie Curie continued her husband’s work in radioactivity. Love and Cancer.
Richard Loving and Mildred Jeter. Illegal Interracial Love.
And there are stories of flowers, jewels, houses and lifelong commitment due to unwanted early pregnancies.
Those are but some, charted grounds.
I have often heard of accounts of men jumping into deep water to save their dogs, sometimes their wives, but seldom their mother in laws.
And here I was at the crux of history. A major inflection point. At a momentous doorstep. Footsteps away to where no man, or lover, had ever ventured into. To enter a bathroom right after a serious dump has been taken by the other person.
Will I brave it and live to tell the tale? And so, I did.
It was that or lifelong shame of soling oneself. Before I could conclude the matter, she banged on the door, commanding me to get out, and then pleaded with me after testing my resolve.
The matters of your asshole are matters of life and death. Perhaps it was love, but it’s easy to forget that emotion when you’re under so much pressure.
We took turns and braved that stench. Cursing. Cussing. Joking. Laughing.
Realizing that braving the putrid smell of our body waste, and laughing about it, and reminiscing about it with a story and a smile was indeed, a true act of love.
PS: Based on real-life events. However, genders have been reversed for plausible deniability and to minimize risk of life threatening adventures or personal assault.