Strictly hypothetical, what would an evening out with your husband be like? As you know I’ve got these three beautiful kids and therefor the opportunity to ‘party’ with hubby is rather rare. There’s always the opportunity to escape family life withOUT hubby, though. But what would it be like, to spend some precious hours on our own?
Hypothetical, let’s assume we tried to find out yesterday. This is the evening’s story how it could be. Hypothetical, remember.
On the late afternoon our beloved Aunt Anna arrived, we talked about this and that because it has been a little while since we met last. Then, around half past 5pm I was in a hurry to approach the city because I, of course, needed to make a beeline to the library (which closes at 7pm) to get an important book for my final paper. (No time to put on some make up or even to dress properly. Why, sir, don’t you like my sweatpants? They’re comfortable, at least…) Meanwhile the weather changed from scorching heat to really hot and stormy so I had to pick up everything of value lying around in the garden plus to protect everything that shouldn’t get wet. A little while later I could finally lean back in our car, turn the key in the ignition and … don’t worry, of course the engine did run. But the car was nearly out of fuel and I had to stop at the next gas station. There I struggled with the fuel dispenser because the driver in front of me though it’s common to park as convenient as possible (not for me, of course, and so I was a bit out of reach), but everything was successful finished soon and I, of course, did find the tank cup (blown away by the mild storm) just in time before it could get stuck anywhere. Also, my credit card was accepted. This could be my lucky day, mate!
A little time later, still on my way towards the city, I remembered the emptiness in my purse that usually goes very bad with an evening out and had to take another stop at a cash point.
‘Hurray, the city is near, just get your husband’s little ass right beside you in the car and off we go!’, might have been the thoughts trespassing my capable brain. But then, approximately 100 meters away from that man’s working place, I found the largest construction site possible, no driving through possible. So I had to park the car further away, call him by phone to help him find me and prayed there wouldn’t be a meter maid approaching while I had to wait. Hey, this would actually be my lucky day because the only person approaching was my husband and with a good mood, too! How very rare…
I, smart as I am, decided to park my car in a garage next to the library I had to get to just in time before they were closing. I made it, snapped my book and went for a big walk down to the university where 2 further books were waiting for me. Always accompanied by my dear husband. No need to hurry, here, the university is open 24hrs a day. After checking out there the stormy weather had increased a lot, so that I couldn’t see one single thing because every time I took a glimpse of the surrounding area there were things landing in my eyes. Things of every size and shape possible. My husband, on the other hand, got problems to use his voice because all the dust stuck in his throat. To escape the advancing rainstorm we hopped onto the next train and went straight for a nice bar. There we had a nice meal, talked about iCarly (that is the one TV series our 7yo watches that we like both and apparently we’re not really able to watch a lot of adult TV, because that was the ONLY series we talked about – well, maybe we’re just a bit weird) and drink something. In fact, I drank a lot, because my circulation is rather low, especially in summer and it helps a lot to drink a lot. Easy Peasy.
A little while later, the female heroine of this story decided to call it an evening early because she was very tired (keeping guard for a class of 7yo while they are floundering about in the water of the local swimming pool the whole morning will do that to you) and so we left around half past 8pm. Not before going to the bathroom once more (just me, of course) because drinking lemonade is absolutely not the best idea before leaving for a longer time without restroom available.
On the way to our car we looked at the different shop windows, because the shops all are already closed at 8pm. There is no danger to actually buy the delicious displayed chocolate that makes you drooling. Meanwhile, we were in no hurry and walking slow, I felt the need to pee. Again. So, we had to walk a little bit faster because it’s a long way home and there’s no possibility for a woman to find relief in the next park like all the mighty men can do so easily.
We reached the shopping mall where we parked our car earlier. Of course the first door we were approaching was locked, because the mall also closes at 8pm. But there probably should be an extra entry to get to the garage because all the garages in the city are open late. All garages? Rounding one corner and another and still feeling this growing need to find a bathroom (usually you can find a toilet inside a garage) our hearts dropped a little and sank down the rest as soon as we could see the sign announcing that the garage was closed. ‘Wait. Our car is in there.’ or ‘What the fuck, why is this damned garage already closed?’ might have been our thoughts. Then we discovered that, although the doors were all locked down, the driveway for the cars was still open. Hey, what a chance. 100% sure that there would be no oncoming car (and after reading the sign displaying the opening times – until 8:30pm only) we started to climb up the damned driveway with the intention to try and get our car out of there. If you could get in, there has to be a way out, too, hasn’t it? At least the neon lights were still on and our car was parked on the first level so the walk wouldn’t be too long. But the pay machines. Aren’t they all inside the mall in this garage? Inside the securely closed up mall? Not all! Thank you, Mr. architect, there was one in reach and it worked, too, although the allowed parking time officially was over by then. But would the machine at the exit accept it and open up the barrier blocking our way towards freedom? It did! Hallelujah and praise the Lord! So, off we went and cried out ‘Fortune favors fools!’.
Huh. That big garage door. Wasn’t that open just a few minutes ago?
Where there would have been free passage just some time ago, now we looked at a big, solid garage door. Sound and safe locked. My husband killed the car’s engine, we both stopped the praising abruptly. I felt the uncomfortable stretch of my bladder. And we were stuck. Nowhere a phone number to call. What use are mobiles of when you don’t know who to call? My really stressed brain remembered the one number you can always use for emergency calls. And then I suggested my husband to call the police and explain our very, very, very distressing situation.
Meanwhile, of course, I found out, that this special garage, only opened when the mall is, has no toilets integrated. Why should it? You could always use the ones inside the mall. If you wouldn’t be caged with the mall closed up, that is. So. Worst scenario possible. We were waiting for some help while in a really awkward situation. We had no idea how long everything could take and I had to pee. Like PEE. Immediately. Did I already mention that there are of course a lot of cameras installed inside this garage? ‘God, please give me a dick so I can stand discreetly by the side!’, was a prayer that remained unanswered. So started to march around, up and down the driveway, to find a spot without a camera and to find the boldness to pull down my sweatpants in the middle of a goddamn driveway of a parking garage! Finally I was brave enough to settle down, my buttocks probably shining like the full moon under the illumination of bright neon glow lamps.
You know what a girl needs to pee? To relax the compressor. There’s no way any woman or girl on earth could pee without relaxing. You think you could relax in that situation? That, I must repeat urgently, HYPOTHETICAL situation? Yeah, I think I couldn’t either.
The Garage Incident
But then I tried out every relaxing breathing method I ever heard of and somehow managed to relax enough and felt the first drop fall down. That is the instant in our hypothetical story when my husband urgently called me. So I thought of a sh!tload of police officers just a few metres down the driveway and … so much about relaxing any muscles. Immediately I did not drop but hoist my pants in a frantic moment of panic and started running downwards (me and my shamefully colored cheeks, the facial ones, I mean).
There was no single police officer. But an open garage door. And a proud husband, on his way to call the police off. He found a sensor down on the floor that opens up the garage door as soon as your car hits it. A smart man. Unfortunately a little bit too smart. He really could’ve taken some seconds more because, honestly, dropping your trousers and squatting down in such a placement and than not even being able to feel the relief of an empty bladder, that is rich.
Anyway, still feeling that pressure, reminding me of torture right then, did change the view of the city as I knew it before. Everywhere I scanned for a place hidden enough to, yes you know what I’m talking about. Also, my ability of doing small talk and to feel relief about the solved problems did lack a bit. But then I remembered the big cinema center right around the corner, where you can use the bathroom without being questioned. The relief of that thought almost broke the concentrating hold on my bladder but finally, after waiting at the most extended red traffic light of the whole wide world I found heaven inside a public bathroom.
And then I laughed. And laughed. And laughed. All the way home. And ever after.
Remember: this whole story is hypothetical. So there’s really no need to search YouTube for a video of a woman and her buttocks in the middle of a driveway…
