I received a random text from an ex-boyfriend today. We broke up well over a year ago, my call. We spent a good number of months together and the relationship started off well. Unfortunately however as the months progressed I found myself becoming increasingly annoyed by various aspects of his behaviour and personality, it is a sad and shocking tale that I tell…
His insistence on ‘group hugs’ started the ball rolling, granted it is a good thing as a single mother to find a man who embraces the new unit, but for someone who isn’t big on PDA’s generally the all encompassing arms of a 6 foot man with sleep in his eyes before I’ve even had a chance to boil the kettle was not something I particularly relished. He was big on relaxed and open relationships; sadly as I was about to find out this was just the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps I am old fashioned or perhaps I am just slightly emotionally retarded but sometimes I just like a bit of personal space.
Just when I was coming to terms with the sad realization that being in a relationship would mean somebody wanting to maul you daily, that on an off day you might see a bogie, a really bad day; a skid mark, a terrible thing happened. I awoke one morning to hear him in the bathroom, bold as brass, taking the longest loudest crap of his life.
Please forgive my crudity but this was no poo, this was one open confident mother splattering crap and I froze in shock. At first I thought I must have been hearing things, perhaps he thought I was still asleep? Or the en-suite door was sound proof enough to disguise the noise? Alas not, not only did he see fit to splatter the pan for what felt like hours but also saw it as appropriate to engage in conversation with me whilst he was doing it, meaning only one thing, he knew I could hear and didn’t care. How does one talk about daily plans to a backdrop of shit?? It shocked me to the core and as I lay there panicking, it dawned on me (after a lengthy period of blissful singledom) that perhaps, gasp, this is what happened in relationships… They were literally full of shit?
The incident was regrettable and unfortunately something I had to deal with on more than one occasion. I tried to get used to it and convince myself that normal happy, open couples thought nothing of such open displays of intimacy, that my aversion to crap was my issue and something that could be conquered. It worked for a while, I tried my best not to imagine him straining, not to picture the post crap pan, not to wince after a breakfast as he excused himself, not to beg for sushi as he suggested a curry.
Out of sight out of mind, perhaps as long as I didn’t actually see the act and hummed with my fingers in my ears every morning it was something we could get over. And then one fateful morning just when I was adjusting to the group hugs and sound effects, bogies and skid marks a tragic thing happened….
I won’t draw it out any longer than needs be as re-living it is harrowing enough in itself. I was going about my business brushing my teeth in the bathroom when Shitboy came in, Bold as you like, undid his belt, pulled down his trousers and sat down. I turned away in a mixture of horror and sadness (knowing this terrible event would seal our fate) as he perched his knees together, trousers round his ankles, staring straight ahead. Words failed me. I laid down my brush and removed my self from the accident site as swiftly as humanly possible.
Needless to say that saw the end of our courtship. He was too open for me and I too closed for him, I won’t be replying to his text and hope he is happy crapping his arse out in front of a lovely new, less anally aware girl than myself, we had fun but without a doubt our shit has certainly sailed.