What could possibly go wrong?

It's time for your first weekend getaway with your new partner. You prepare your bag, choose clothes, including pajamas and matching underwear, check if everything is in place, and sit in the car full of enthusiasm, driving towards the perfect weekend. Just a few kilometers more, and you'll be able to relax completely. But will you?

Vacation starts on the way. A warm hand on your thigh, pushing the dress's edge a bit closer to your tummy, coffee to go, the smell of relaxation. Once you arrive at your final destination and arrange all the necessary check-ins, wallet, and ID searches, it is time for the first visit of your stay and bedroom. Lastly, a smile sneaks on your face, and it's time for your first glass of wine and a small snack. When your stomach is satisfied, you should test the bed - the sheets' smell and the mattress's hardness. Sex is the first step on the way to relaxing your digestion. Coffee, lunch, and wine are starting to move towards the end of the road. This movement makes more room for dinner and glasses of wine until the bottom of the first bottle is visible. 

Relaxation and tidiness are appealing; the bed is comfortable, and the night is long. This is followed by late rolling over each other until sweet sleep. The next morning, the body is as if it would have the worst hangover, but the head remains fresh. Enough to wake up to go to the toilet. This is also the first time you realize it will soon be time for a number two. But since someone is waking up in the next room, you quickly pull up your panties, freshen up a bit, and make coffee. When it starts smelling really good, you light a cigarette when having your first seep of coffee, as if you did not know that this is the perfect recipe for running to the toilet. 

If we were alone, we would let one loud wind out so we could finish the coffee and slowly walk to our best friend at that moment, who would swallow all the stinking waste of the previous day. But what the hell when there's someone else in that house who sees you as the perfect person?

This is my eternal problem. Not because I think the other one takes me for granted, but I really can't. I prefer to sweat and listen to the music of my intestines. The intestinal symphony miraculously calms down when I keep all the biological waste inside me unhealthily all morning. That's when I get distracted with other things. I call it silence before the storm. If I'm out, I'm looking for toilets that are satisfying. This means primarily empty, with a fragrance and a door, straight down to the floor. I mustn't see the happening outside. This rule applies to all the things I do in the outdoor toilets, also for the need number one.

If we stay in the apartment, I'll wait for the other person to go somewhere, to the store, or maybe for a drink. Then I would have arranged it like ladies do. At least, I think so. If the other person's departure is nowhere to be seen, I have no choice but to ask nicely if he can disappear from the apartment for fifteen minutes. Thus, I partially retain my dignity in my head, even though I know that it is an entirely human thing and an even worse biological need than sex. After the job is done, the relaxation and smile return to the face as it was the moment we first entered the apartment. 

In addition to the need number two, weekend getaways also bring out unpleasant things, nighttime farts release, morning breath, observing the daily hygiene of the other human being. For the most part, there are many relaxing and enjoyable hours, but there are biological needs that cannot go unnoticed. Some of us are more attentive to our own than others, so our stomachs often hurt, but when it comes to food, we only eat what causes us problems later. 

There have already been a million conversations in my head between good and bad peaches, one on my left arm and the other on the right. The first one whispers in my ear that I should relax, a fucking magic word that has been driving me crazy lately, that we all have our own things; biological ones just need to come first. Unfortunately, the other peach has control over me. Because of this, I struggled to spend hours in the bathroom and send other participants out of the house when I couldn't stand it anymore. I tried everything, sat on the toilet, and convinced myself to relax. Sometimes, I succeeded, especially when I thought about my ex-boyfriends and the sound of water was muffing the other sounds.

When Sunday comes, it's time to leave. Despite the insanely good weekend, a small part of me is immensely looking forward to it. Who in the world does not like to return to the shelter of their home bathroom, where there is no shame in wild sounds? When they finally settle down, I can relax and start thinking of the best weekend, which has passed too quickly.