Yesterday I saw the Lord Of the Rings and shit my pants.
Not in that order though.
I was standing in my kitchen when I first woke up early in the morning, around 11:50, and I felt the urge to "break wind", or "pass gass", or "cut the cheese" or, as the kids say, " Dobosh up the place" and decided that I would "be like Mike" and "just do it". I released the tension in my constantly clenched bowels ever so slightly to liberate the foulness, and it was at that moment that I crossed over into Middle Age.
I know it seems rash of me to make that claim when I've only been around for 26 years, but how else do you explain the fact that I literally shuffled to the bathroom as fast as I could, all the while holding my underwear tight around my legs to prevent any nasty seepage.
I then went on to nastify the entire bathroom with my interior stench, before concealing my soiled drawers at the bottom of the trashcan. Thank God this blog thing is completely anonymous, this could be really embarrassing.
Once I had properly disposed of the evidence, I had to somehow sneak back into the bedroom, at this point buck naked, where my girlfriend was still sleeping and locate another pair of underpants to make sure that my deception and self esteem remained intact. I couldn't let her wake up and see me until I had managed to get dressed or I was a dead man.
I approached the door, knowing she was at least an hour away from waking up on her own, and I stealthily turned the knob.
So far so good.
As the door swung open with some minor creaks and groans, I held my breath.
She slept on.
I then, for the first time in my life, actually began tip-toeing across the floor towards the dresser. When I finally made it to my underwear drawer, I took a breath. All I had to do now was open it.
She rolled over.
Now she was facing me, and the only thing separating me from eternal shame and anguish were her eyelids, which had started to flutter.
I began to panic.
I couldn't open the drawer with her face two feet away, so I racked my brain for an acceptable cover story and cast my eyes about the room, looking for some avenue of escape.
There was none, I was fucked.
I resigned myself to my fate and sighed out loud as I made an attempt at the drawer.
Or should I say "The shrieking Drawer".
She woke up.
And as I stood there, inarticulate and naked, at the most vulnerable point in my adult life, I couldn't speak. So she spoke for me.
"Ryan, what are you doing? Put some clothes on, it's freezing." Then she rolled back over and went back to sleep.
"Um, Ok." I said sheepishly. I extracted my undergarments from the dresser and slipped out of the room, not believing my good fortune.
I had forgotten the cardinal rule of relationships, the one thing all men must understand if they are to spend any extended time with a woman:

You Never Know What They Will Do.

You can guess, you can theorize, you can have a team of experts observe her everyday behavioral patterns, and still you will still not know what she will say when she wakes up to find you naked, shivering, and staring at your underwear drawer.
So, best of luck gentlemen, and if you've learned anything from this story at all, let it be this;
Keep an extra pair of underwear hidden in every room of your house. I know that I will.
Oh, by the way, Return Of The King was awesome! In fact, it was so good, I shit my pants.

But in a good way.