What The Shit?

I recently fell in love. I'm talkin' instant, finish each other's sentences, everything's magical, let's just stare into each other's eyes type of weirdo shit. I never fully or completely understood if this was something that actually existed. At least not for me. In the past I've rolled my eyes and thought people were full of it when they would claim, "When you know, you know."  Suuuuuurrrre thing buddy. So you were just out there, walking around, living your life and some stranger randomly walked up to you one day and suddenly made you into a weirdo lovey dovey freak of nature? And for some unknown reason you two just "know" you're supposed to be with one another? I have had dozens of crushes, but falling in love is serious business to me. Emotion, especially my own, has been too complex for me to comprehend these widespread beliefs.

My man, he has turned me into a believer.

A lot of people have been asking me to write about my newfound love and the truth is I can't. I just want to love him instead. I want to figure out this love thing with him, without viewers and spectators. Our bond is sacred to me. At some point down the road I may be willing to write about our love, but for now it's just for us. When it was shared momentarily on social media that I was in a relationship it was as if I'd finally reached some destination of social acceptance. It bothered me. At one point a rumor was going around my work group during my singledom that maybe Kindra is actually a lesbian and hasn't come out yet... why hasn't someone swept her off her feet yet?... Umm, thank you? But, no. Sorry to disappoint.

Part of me wants to hide inside his heart and never come out. But I must Verse. Kindy was made to Verse.

These past three years I'd  been really getting to know myself. I dated around to see what I want and what I like, but I've never been one to make any sudden moves in the love department. I learned that my relationship status doesn't make me secure, I do. I've known since I was a very young girl by the relationships that were demonstrated to me that love and security are inside jobs. It's not that I didn't want to settle because I think I'm hot shit and need someone to "work" for me. I refused to settle on myself because I knew I had (and still do have) work to do before fully committing. I had to face my insecurities alone so that when I chose a partner, I chose one who had the same understandings of himself.

On our first date, he wasted no time and within the first 20 minutes asked me about my last relationship. Normally this would annoy me, but I could tell he was a no bullshit type of man and genuinely wanted to know. As I answered his question honestly describing the heartbreak from my relationship three years prior he nodded his head and kept eye contact with me. At the end of my "cliff note version" of my break up story I explained how it made me realize what I really want which is a partnership. I said, "You know, one whole person standing...." and just like magic his voice met mine and in the same tone said, "In front of another whole person to experience life together." We shared an awkward flirty smile and I felt things move around inside my chest, mind, and other parts of my body that I had never felt before.

I'm not here to tell you that I think love is bullshit or to tell you how much I love this shit out of my man. Neither of these notions are the quest of this blog post. Firstly, I know love isn't bullshit. I have always known, despite the front I've displayed in my past. I just didn't know if it was for me. I've discovered that people will choose to stay with you once you decide that you're worth staying for. I know this fact and truly believe that I'm worthy of love, but that doesn't mean I'm still not afraid of making the wrong choices. Intimacy terrifies me, but I'm trying to make wiser choices regarding my willingness to give and mostly receive love. So while I'll leave my relationship details out for now, I will unravel a very important lesson I've learned while being in a new relationship. One of the resources that revealed this lesson to me was my very own poop. Yes, my shit. Fecal matter,

When you first start dating someone awkwardness lingers as you each strive to find your footing around one another. A lot of my girlfriends are very open in their relationships and talk about pooping and farting with their partners, with some of them even doing these things in front of their partners. This is and always has been a no no for me. Big no no. So when I spent my first overnight at my newfound love's house after the Los Angeles Gay Pride Parade = full day of boozing. I found myself the next morning in sheer terror of the bubble guts situation happening underneath his sheets. The layout of his apartment does not make it easy to slip a shit out secretly. When 7am hit, my eyes widened and I snuck out of bed and into his bathroom to figure out my game plan. I sat on that toilet and pep talked myself like I was in labor and had to wait until I was at the hospital to deliver. "It's going to be ok. Hold it in. You can do this. You can NOT drop a load at this man's house the first time you stay the night." I got up and looked in the mirror, felt dizzy and splashed water on my face. I pointed at myself and said, "Get it together KINDRA!" My plan was to sneak back into bed and sleep my painful poop away.

The next thing I remember was I was facedown on the ground, blood splattered everywhere, with my man screaming my name, asking if I was ok and picking me up. My first thought was, Please God, I hope I didn't shit myself. My hands were numb, I was dizzy, I had just fainted. I face planted into the door jam of his bedroom and split my nose open pretty bad. He carried me into the living room and laid me on his couch, got me ice and towels and paced back and forth like a maniac. I asked him to remain calm. Thankfully my panties were clean, but I had to plan my next move because I needed to shit so freakin bad.

 

The shitty gash aftermath

The shitty gash aftermath

As he paced back and forth I told him I probably fainted because I was hungry and that he needed to go to the store and get me eggs and toast. His fridge was full bachelor status, egg whites, juice, milk, water, butter, hot sauce. So I sent him on his way and frantically called my best friend while holding my gash tightly trying not to drip blood all over his apartment. I asked her what I should do and she said, "Take a shit dude, let it out, and you better open the freakin window in his bathroom!" So I did and all was fine. For months he and I blamed my fall on our boozing the night before while on an empty stomachs.

I'm new to this, but I guess when you first fall in love you ALWAYS want to be together. Like, constantly. It still weirds me out, but we do it. We're always together and one Saturday afternoon I told him I needed to run back to my place to grab some stuff (poop) and he begged me to stay saying I had brought enough of my things and looked pretty in what I was wearing.... UGH! He was sitting on the edge of his bed and I had my legs wrapped around him while sitting on top of him. I embraced a moment of embarrassment and shyly said, "Alan I have to poop!" We both laughed so hard and for a moment after our laughter settled, he looked in my eyes and I could tell he loved me even more.

Vulnerability equates love.

I went home. I pooped. Since then I've told him the real reason I fainted and he thinks I'm hilarious. He's encouraged me to always be honest and to just "let it all out baaaaabe.."

The moral of the story is that not only am I comfortable talking about poop with my partner now, (almost too comfortable it's not cute) but we have open communication about everything. My poop opened the communication doors for us. Showing someone that you are human can be an endearing quality. I've struggled with feelings of not being good at relationships, or worthy of love, but instead of holding it all in as I would have before, I explain my concerns to him and he is always understanding. We talk things out. A lot. We don't let things fester. It's my most favorite part of our relationship.

So on behalf of my poop, I'd like to encourage you to be as honest and open with your feelings as you are with your bowel movements. I promise that letting it all out is the only way to go/grow.

In honor of this post I invite you to watch this video by one of my favorite motivational speakers Kyle Cease. Called, Take a Shift:

 

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