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Ah, Christ. Here we go again.
There I was just walking down the street with a little money jangling in my pocket, whistling my favorite tune without a care in the world when it hit me. That dreaded feeling where I know I’m going to have to stop whatever I’m doing and find a private place where it’s legal to take my penis out of my pants and do something horrible with it, pronto. As always seems to be the case with me, I was just minding my own business and somehow my bladder got filled to the brim with my arch nemesis: Urine.
Gosh dangit! I just can’t catch a break!
Every time I feel like I’ve finally pissed all of the urine out of my body for good and things are looking up for me, wham, there it is again, urine. Sure, I can pretend it’s not there, but it’s only going to get worse. It’s like a cursed water balloon inside me that’s constantly swelling up with piss and putting a damper on everything good I’ve got goin’ on. Who knows where I’d be in life if not for this awful, throbbing pressure of urine intermittently forcing me to drop everything and find a discreet place to spray out all the piss? It’s maddening.
Every time I’m hit with the urine feeling, it’s a lose-lose situation for me. I can either sneak off into the smelly back room of some gas station and use my penis sort of like a hose to drain the urine from my body, or I can ignore it until the piss eventually comes out in my pants anyway. It’s a catch-22: I don’t want to leave it in there doing God knows what, but I also don’t want to go through the unpleasant act of squirting it out of my penis. Piss is a wretched fluid that no one in their right mind wants to look at or smell, much less contain in their body. Yet here I am walking around with it sloshing around inside my bladder, a stupid organ whose only purpose is to protect my good organs like my stomach and heart from getting urine all over them.
To be honest, I wish I didn’t have a bladder at all.
Sadly, urine was a plague on my life even as a small child. At school, I’d have to raise my hand in the middle of class and ask the teacher if I could be excused. I told myself that my classmates didn’t know it was because I had to expel liquid waste from my urethra, but looking back I’m sure they did. Who knows the names I was called behind my back: Piss Boy, the Urination Prince, Little Mister Urine…it’s a wonder I had any friends at all. I did my best to pay attention in class so I could get an education and make something of myself, but the fact that I had to pause everything and piss four or five times a day surely held me back from achieving my full potential.
As an adult, I’ve gotten better at coping, but pissing is still the bane of my existence. How many meetings at work have I had to step out of to go deal with my urine? How many women have I scared away by awkwardly excusing myself on dates to go do a piss? How many precious hours with my loved ones have I missed out on due to having to go somewhere private to let pee come out of me? Who knows how much better my life would be if I wasn’t constantly having to point my pee hole in the direction of a toilet to empty out all my urine. I don’t have a single memory of a day where I wasn’t inconvenienced with pissing at least once.
I don’t know why I even bother wearing pants anymore. I’m just going to have to pull them back down again to piss out a bunch of piss.
Want to know an embarrassing secret? The longest I’ve gone without needing to urinate was a mere 12 hours. Twelve hours! I don’t even want to do the math, but as a 42-year-old man, I’m willing to bet I’ve pissed enough to fill an entire swimming pool and then some. How can I look forward to living the rest of my life when I know that everything I do will at some point be interrupted by urine? It’s a devastating cross to bear; no one should have to live this way.
And if things couldn’t get any worse, guess what? Sometimes I have to defecate, too. But that’s a whole other can of worms that I’ll save for another day.
