I was freshly 18 in my first summer after graduating high school, hanging out with my brother, his girlfriend, and her best friend whom I desperately wanted to bang. The feeling may have been mutual and we were both too shy to speak up, or it was a completely one sided attraction and I'm just some sort of creeper. Either way, we've been in the same circle of friends for some time and neither of us ever said a word to one another. So my brother and his girlfriend decided it was time we hook up.
So there we all are, higher than the Sears Tower, playing the ever living hell out of some Vice City. I'm sharing rails with this girl taking turns going on unlimited ammo rampages, and she slides in closer to me. I'm so far in the clouds that there isn't an ounce of worry or doubt in me. We're cracking jokes, hitting whatever is in front of us, and before long she's straddled in my lap and we're making out like the sexually frustrated, hormonal, "barely legal" teenage animals we are.
I don't know about most people that use cocaine, but when I do it, it constipates the hell out of me. Not even an instant enema can escape that way. So, naturally, when I'm in that state, I don't make the best dietary decisions. Taco Bell was literally behind our neighborhood, and back then they had bean burritos for 86 cents after tax. Perfect for every occasion.
As her tongue was guiding mine around inside her mouth, I thought to myself "this is it. It's been three years since your last girlfriend. Here is where your dry spell ends." We were getting heavy. I took over and laid her across the couch. My brother took the hint and started taking his girlfriend away.
In that moment, just as things are getting serous, my mind took over and I began coming down. I could smell the sweet aroma coming off her body as I was pulling her pants down her thighs. My stomach gurgled. I felt a knife in my bowels twist and wrench all of my insides up. My stomach gurgled again. I wasn't as high as i was moments earlier. I was no longer constipated.
"I gotta go!"
I jumped up and ran out the door without saying another word. My brother chased after me, leaving the girls behind.
"What's wrong dude, does her pussy smell?"
"No dude, I gotta shit!"
Before I could finish that sentence my stomach gurgled again. Oh god I wasn't gonna make it.
"Real bad!"
I took off running as fast as I could. Back then, I thought Tripp brand long shorts (or short pants, I never knew what to call them) from Hot Topic were the coolest things. You know the kind, extend somewhere between the bottom of the calf and the ankle, has those chains hanging off the back and the pockets deep enough to fit your arm up to your elbow. Needless to say, one cannot run very fast in them.
I made it down barely two of the six houses in between us before it had started. I couldn't stop the flow of burritos and bad life decisions from expelling out of my asshole. There was no point in running anymore. I reached down and grabbed the bottoms of my Tripps and squeezed them against my legs in sheer hope that nothing seeped out. As I shamefully walked the other four houses, all that could be heard were the hysterical hyena-like laughs wailing from my brother still at the end of his girlfriend's driveway. Ten years later, I still hear that laugh.
I made it home, sat on the toilet, and threw all my clothes into the shower. Shit caked my ass and smeared all over the toilet seat which made me slip just about every different direction. I leaned over to the tub and hand washed my clothes under the faucet. Then I took a shower. When I got out, I called my best friend, "dude, I just shit my pants," and hung up. As I lowered the phone I could hear his laughter through the receiver, just barely over the cackles of my brother still outside.
By the time I went back outside, changed and cynical, jaded and cold against this dark world, everybody knew. All my friends of the neighborhood, the girl I was about to have sex with, even the Taco Bell guy which I found out about the next time I went there and was called Shitty McBritches.
TLDR: Ending a three year dry spell, get butterflies. Nope, it's shit.