The Good Love

I decided today that confidentiality-schmentiality, I'm sharing a story.

(I can't get arrested for this, can I? I refuse to be a repeat offender. I AIN'T GOIN' BACK)

And it's not funny, so don't even bother waiting for the punch line. I thought about writing it with humor, but decided against it. I took notes while I was listening to this story (because I AM that big of a dork) and tried to keep it as close to how it was told as possible.

This did not happen to me, but for ease of writing, I am going to tell it in first-person point of view. I'm kind of paraphrasing here, but please know that at one point this story will get a little gross and there is the appearance of fecal matter. Well, not LITERALLY. But you will read about it. As some of you know, I can't really handle talking about, thinking about, or even looking at p-o-o-p. But I will. This one time, because this story is worth it.

I was at WinCo a few years ago doing some shopping. I had to wash my hands, so I went to the restroom.

When I entered the restroom, I heard this tiny, pitiful little voice saying, "Help me. Hellllp."

I called Hello? and checked under the stall doors. In the smallest stall there, I found a woman huddled on the floor. She had to be like, eighty five years old. And there was some sort of explosive diarrhea situation because her skirt was covered in it. So I crawled under the stall and helped her remove her skirt.

I took the skirt to the sink where I wrung it out (storyteller's words, not mine!!) and helped her get dressed again. I asked her whom she was shopping with and she told me her husband Randy was in the check-out lane. I told her that I would go get him and everything would be okay.

I had this great plan where I would go find her husband, tell him what happened and I was going to help them and they would be fine. In my head, I had this idea.

So I found Randy in line and I told him, "Hi Randy. Your wife is fine, but she had an accident in the ladies room. Don't worry; I helped her out and then she asked me to find you. Why don't you go ahead and go through the checkout lane and when you're finished, you can go and get your car. I'll wait with your wife and we can meet you outside."

Here I was thinking I had this great plan, they would get their groceries, I would hang out with the wife and kind of help her hide her skirt because, you know, it was um, really stained with [redacted. Seriously. I don't use that word]. I didn't want her to be embarrassed.

I was in for a surprise because the husband said, "No." And I was like, "Um. What now?"

Then he said, "Take me to my wife. Please. Right now. I need you to take me to her."

So I did. I led him over to where I had stashed her, because I didn't want her to be embarrassed about her clothing.

The husband walked up to his wife, put his arm around her, and just held her. She leaned against him, stained clothing and all, and then they just left their groceries and walked out of the store.

He didn't care about his groceries. His priority was his wife. She needed him, and he was there for her. He didn't care about her stained and dirty clothing that was swishing around him, she didn't care that everyone could see that she had, very obviously, had an accident. 

That's real love right there.


And while I never want to have that exact situation ever, EVER happen to me, I hope that someday I have a love like that.

Because that's the good stuff.