
Out of nowhere, she leaned in and whispered, “Come with me to the bathroom.” My drunk brain screamed this is it. Every college movie I’d ever seen suddenly felt real.
She grabbed my hand, pulled me through the crowd, and we slipped into the bathroom. Door locked. Heart racing. I was so sure this was about to be one of those wild party stories you tell your friends years later.
She turned around, smiled at me… and then casually said, “One sec.”
Next thing I know, she unbuttoned her jeans, sat down, and did not just pee. I mean the full concert. Grunts, farts, and the unmistakable plop.
I stood there frozen like a deer in headlights. My brain short-circuited between “be supportive?” and “get the hell out of here.”
I chose the latter. Unlocked the door, slipped out, and vanished back into the party like a ghost.
Never saw her again.
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