Good toilet paper is expensive.
And now I know why.
The cheap shit stays with you.
By “stays with you” I mean it stays.with.you.
Case in point.
Redbone and I planned a little rendezvous at his house late one night. I showered up, got dressed, and made sure to pee because I had a nice little drive ahead of me and there is very little worse than driving and having to pee. You know, you catch every red light, and you still continue to drink whatever you have handy because you’re thirsty, regardless of the fact that your bladder is about to bust.
So, I make it there and he and I proceed to get nasty. I lay back on the bed, legs spread, and he gets in between them while I prep myself for what I have been waiting for forEVER.
Him: “Are you on your period?”
Me, aghast: “No.”
Him: “Why you have a tampon in there?”
Me: “I don’t.”
He hands me a mirror and turns the bedside lamp on and tells me to take a look. I do.
I have fucking toilet paper shreds down there. One of them is certainly long enough to be mistaken for a tampon string.
Now you would think that after all Redbone and I have been through that there would be very little left to truly embarrass me. But this certainly did.
Me: “Well, at least you know I wipe.”