Ahhh, the Story of Us…if you haven’t read JTT’s side of this epic event, you can find out how we were Matched up. My story is better, though. And by “better” I mean “more horrifying”.
The county fair is a yearly ordeal in our fair city and it requires extra detail. So, 19-someodd years ago, A fellow officer and I were on foot patrol–trolling the midway, having the typical young and single rookie cop type of conversation:
Hell yeah, are you kidding me?
“How about her?”
Hell no, not even with your dick…etc.
I know, it makes me sound like a complete douchebag asshole, but I was young and in uniform and newly exposed to the powers of my position. After several passes weeding out the hotties and lot lizards I thought we’d picked through most of them when I saw a vision.
She was tall and blonde, wearing skin tight jeans, a white tee shirt and boots. I went and found my fellow officer and pointed her out. He agreed that she was completely fuck-able, but did not know the story behind that fine creation so we assumed she was from out of town.
Casually, I approached one of the female officers who had been asking about the kind of girl I’d go for, and went out of my way to drag her around the fair until we found JTT again. I’ll never forget the words I said: “Now THAT’S the kind of girl I’d like to meet. She’s pretty, she’s country, she’s not all dolled up and she’s not here to impress anyone.”
My fellow officer went into full blown detective mode and set up our introduction. We literally talked for hours in the rain under the tent. I think all my swag was gone by then and I gave her ten ways to get in touch with me. My super cool beeper number, my cell, my home phone, my office, my parents’ phone, etc. b/c I wanted to be sure she knew I was available if she wanted to chat.
The next day I decided I’d be REALLY cool and cruise by and see JTT at her house. It could have been a scene straight out of a movie.
I really should set things up by letting you know that lunch is a fantastic daily event where all the guys get together in the squad room and eat as much greasy, nasty bullshit as they can stuff down. Most of our local fast food restaurants offer free meals to guys in uniform, and THAT day we’d enjoyed a SHITLOAD of questionable burritos.
As I entered the home of my unknown future wife (whom I thought to be drop dead gorgeous already) I found her eating cereal and chatting with her mother who was hanging wallpaper in the hallway. A few pleasantries were exchanged and I was oozing coolness with my uniform and authority and all.
JTT flounced up to the barn with her Lucky Charms with me in tow and showed me her horses and invited me to come riding with her sometime. I was just realizing that I was REALLY into this girl when I had the most gawd awful cramps erupt in my stomach. All I could think was “holy shit, what am I going to do?”
Normally there would be time for a fake call and a lights-and-siren run to the station or a secret dumping hole, but this one came out of nowhere and there was no time to wait. It was here. It was now.
I don’t know if any of you have ever had to use every ounce of power to clinch your ass cheeks together to keep from shitting on yourself, but it can reduce the coolest, strongest man to tears.
The walk to the bathroom was a feat in and of itself. Permission to use the bathroom was granted, and wouldn’t you know it…the toilet is not around the corner, not down the hall, not in the fucking basement…it is literally TWO FUCKING FEET AWAY from where my future Mother-in-law and her stunning daughter (whom I want to get to know better) are HANGING WALLPAPER in the FUCKING HALLWAY.
I clinch and pretend not to clinch and sidle into the bathroom. It’s difficult to come out of a gun belt when you’ve got time, but when shit is on the verge of flying out of your ass…well, I was ripping off belt keepers and undoing buckles and straps and praying to TinyBabyJesus that I could just get my ass somewhere NEAR the toilet when finally the belt came loose and hit the ground with a thud.
I was in complete Panic Mode and thought “I’ll just turn the fan on and let a little out at a time!” But when I hit the switch, there was silence.
THE GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT FAN DIDN’T WORK.
At this point, I there was no more shame in my game. I gave it up and just let it happen. It was like pouring a bucket of gravel in a baby pool and it smelled like a overused port-a-john on a hot summer’s day.
Eventually it was over. I gathered what was left of my self respect and dignity and and burning sphincter and marched out of the bathroom to red faces and smiles.
I politely excused myself, having left my mark and my lasting memory. I know it had to take hours for the stink to fade. What a fan-fucking-tastic first impression.