A Canadian woman who shared a truly memorable pooping-on-the-first-date story on Twitter is now lamenting her sudden rise to fame.
Tweeting from her personal account, Makela shared the story of a recent date that started with dinner, moved onto her hiding poo in her handbag and finished with her date laying his love for her on the line.
But mostly poo in a handbag.
“I have a story to tell,” Makela began. “It is about my poop.”
“So yesterday, I went on a date with a man who asked me out in the grocrery store the other day. All was going well. I went back to his place,” she continued.
“I am a confident, calm and self-assured woman… so I felt comfortable popping [sic] in his bathroom. This was a mistake. His toilet did not flush.”
Of course it didn’t Makela. Don’t you know the course of true love never runs smoothly?
“Properly. So, of course, like any calm, confident self assured woman. I panicked. And flushed it a million times, making everything worse,” she continued.
“By this point, I was really frantic because I had been in there for too long. There was only one single piece of poop. So in that moment, Something came over me. And I knew exactly what I had to do. I got toilet paper and removed the one poop from the toilet.
“Once that was done I realized I didn’t have a plan, What do I do with it now? I can’t fucking leave it there.
“By this point I was REALLY freakking out because I’d DEFINITELY been in there too long. So, again, making another horrible decision. I did the only thing I could think to do. I wrapped it in multiple layers of toilet paper, and put it in my purse.”
Of course you did, Makela.
Because nothing says I’m self-assured quite like carrying a hand-wrapped log of your confidence poo around in a fancy first-date bag.
While part of me wishes this story ended with her date’s dog stealing the poop from her bag and running around with it, refusing to give it back to her and eventually settling down onto some white carpet, unfortunately it seems that first date guy doesn’t own a dog. So, points deducted for you, dude.
It could be worse, you could get your pants stuck around your ankles. Post continues after video…
“Alright, so now what?” Makela continued. “We are stitting there on his couch and kissing and all I can think of is the piece of poop in my purse.
“Him: you’re so beautiful. The moment you smiled at me,u had me
“Me: that’s really sweet.
“Me in my head: I have a piece of poo in my purse
“At this point, I text my sister for advice,” she continues.
First date guy is probably stoking the fire, pouring more wine, massaging Modest Makela’s feet at this point.
“I am sitting. In his house. With a piece of poop in my purse,” she texts.
It really doesn’t matter how many time she writes the words “poop in my purse”, this story is not getting old.
“MAKELA,” her sister responded. ‘WHAT IS HAPPENING. MAKELA. WHAT IS HAPPENING.”
“I don’t know,” Makela responded. “But I have a piece of poop in my purse and I’m afraid it’s going to smell or fall out.”
Both legitimate concerns, really.
“YOU NEED TO DO SOMETHING. GO OUTSIDE PRETEND YOU SMOKE. Jesus Christ,” her sister wrote. “Don’t his toilet clearly doesn’t work. Does he only have one bathroom?”
Tina sounds like someone you would really want around in a time of crisis, to be honest.
“Yes,” Makela responded.
“Go outside !!!” Tina replied.
“And it worked for half the. Poop. Maybe there’s a window in the washroom. I could throw it out,” Makela said.
“This is to much,” Sensible Sister replied. “This is borderline to fucking much.”
Pardon the pun, but no shit, Tina.
“Tina. He is in love with me,” Modest Makela explained. “But I can’t face him ever again.”
With the foot massage now presumably coming to a close, Makela cut the text session short.
“So after a few hours he used the washroom and I heard it flush. I figured he fixed it. Maybe not, but I have to take a chance. I have to try to flush the poop. So I brought my purse up to the washroom. Unwrapped the poop, prayed to every god I know, put it in and flushed.
Crickets chirp, tumbleweeds blow, eternities pass…
“By the grace of God, it worked. The poo flushed. I was free. I was in the clear. Everything was going to be okay. I survived. I am a survivor.”
I mean… you know what, sure. This is your story Makela, call yourself what you will.
“So that’s my story. A man, sat there telling me I’m the most amazing woman he’s ever met, not knowing, 10 feet away in my purse, was my poop.
“That I’d fished out of his toilet…”
Before signing off, Makela offered all the single ladies of the world out there a piece of poop scented advice.
“This is v embarrassing for me. But seriously: don’t drink coffee before a date, its better to be sleepy than to have to hide a poop in ur purse.”
So true, Makela, so true.
“I was the hot girl, now I’m the poop girl,” Makela wrote.
What can we say? Life is cruel and unkind to those with active bowels.
Here’s to you, Makela.