LESSON 41: DON'T LOSE YOUR FACE
It was the summer of ...more recent than I care to tell you all.
I had a friend at work that wanted to set me up with his brother. I conceded to go to dinner to meet him.
His brother, whom we will call Dave, (because he looked like Dave Franco,) was babetastic. Obviously. Hence the nickname. He has a great smile, he was a gentleman, he cooked a delicious dinner, and he was fun. All signs pointed to the death of my single life.
So later that night, he and his brother suggested we go longboarding. I told them I had never been before, and they said they would teach me.
Which was perfect because men love being manly and teaching girls to do stuff! (right?)
So we go to the car, and I am wearing sandals and shorts, and I asked if that was proper longboarding attire. They informed me that it was.
It unfortunately was not.
So we get to the canyon, and they teach me most of the basics, and I can catch on to things pretty quickly, so I thought I was ready.
We rolled out.
Now, I don't know if y'all have ever longboarded down Provo Canyon, but it can be considered slightly treacherous for a trial run longboarding. But me, being the rock star that I am, did pretty well.
The guys had to stop me a couple of times, and I walked down one of the steeper slopes, but overall, I was decently impressed with myself. And of course I thought I was impressing homeboy Dave. What a good night!
The only thing that wasn't ideal, as far as I was concerned, was that at some point down the canyon, it occurred to me that I had to use the facilities...you know...because I have a teeny tiny bladder.
Needless to say I was feeling pretty good. I played a little damsel in distress, while also being the cool, confident, "I can do what you can do," chick.
And then we get to the bottom of the canyon.
Dave had stopped in front of me. And unfortunately, in all their teaching, my sensei's had forgot to teach me how to stop.
Now, if I remember correctly, I think we both went the same way to dodge one another, but I knew a collision was inevitable.
So I bailed.
I just straight jumped off the longboard.
Upon landing, I made contact first on the ground with my ankle, which I twisted, and then rolled and hit my head.
During some point of my little tumble, it would seem that I would lose control of my inhibitions.
I legit peed my pants. With two super good looking guys in the canyon, far away from my house.
Dave ran over to see if I was ok, and I laid there. Soiled.
Like the gentleman he was, Dave tried to help me up. I pushed him away, pretending I was trying to be tough. When in reality, I really just didn't want him to gain intelligence on my predicament. We got to his car and his brother peaced out when I told him I was ok. So it was just me, Dave, his car, and my urine.
All I could think was that I was thankful for the cover of night, but that I would be sabotaged and betrayed by the appearance of a wet seat.
So the entire ride home, I lifted myself up so I wouldn't sit directly on his car seat. Dave asked why I didn't just sit down, and I told him it was because my ankle hurt. Which I guess he believed.
I'm not sure what holding myself up above the seat would do to subdue the pain in my ankle, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He also insisted on taking me to his house so he could doctor my injuries, but I loudly protested. It is possible that he attributed that to me not liking him, when in reality, I just needed to take my pants off.
I kept this secret to myself for a long time, because as someone that doesn't get embarrassed often, I was a little mortified.
Especially because I suspected that the boys might have some inclination as to what happened, but they didn't say anything out of respect. Which I truly appreciate.
It was a situation that at the time, I recognized that it was a funny thing, and I would probably think was funny later, but it was not funny then!!
However, a few weeks ago, I told some people in China, and then they told everyone else, and now I can accept it as just funny. Speaking of which, whilst in China, we had an intern that worked with us, that mostly spoke English, but she would still ask what certain words or phrases meant. At one point, she asked what the English translation of the Chinese phrase "lose my face" would be. Some people told her in America, it would be the same as saying "peed my pants." Which wasn't true. But we didn't know what it meant to lose your face! Hence the title.
So yeah. I couldn't date a boy because I peed my pants on our longboarding adventure.
Darn loss of bodily functions.