The pantyliner incident.

Oh, the first year of marriage.  You know, the year when you’re approached by throngs of people sing-songing, “Sooooo, how’s the briiiiiiiide?”  With raised eyebrows they pry, “Do you guys plan on having kiiiiiiiiiids soon?”  Dude, I was in shock.  I wasn’t planning anything.

That year was a toughie for us.  I was Brian’s first serious girlfriend and we got married at the meager age of 21.  (We were children!  Why didn’t anybody say so!?  The proof is in the picture here.)  We had so much to learn.  Not only is his mom private about feminine matters, but Brian didn’t live with his sister.  Suffice it to say, there are lots of ways that boys are different from girls; and we were figuring out just how different.  Countless unexpected and painful conversations were hashed out in that first year.  This conversation, however, was only painful in that my sides hurt from laughing so hard.  It all started thanks to my absentmindedness… (You’ll see).

Our first home was a tiny, farmhouse apartment.  While this apartment did have a beautiful view of the mountains, it did not have a washer and dryer.  Being fair, Brian and I took turns doing our laundry at our parents’ houses.  On this fateful day, it was Brian’s turn.

Me, sitting in the empty apartment, minding my own business.

Brian – wide-eyed – enters, walking forcefully from the kitchen into the living room to stand over me.

Brian, enunciating his words with distinct shock,”I.  Saw.  The SICK-est thing today!”

Me, alarmed, “Whhhhhhat?”

Brian, “I was at my mom’s house doing laundry, and I was standing there talking to Doug (Brian’s stepdad), and I pulled your underwear out.  And theeeeeeeeeere was something bloody in it!”

Me, a little ashamed, laughing hysterically at Brian’s misfortune and my own carelessness, “What did you do?!”

Brian, “I hid it.”

Me, “You hid it?!”

Brian, “Yeah.  And then I went upstairs and I flushed it.”

Me, panicking over his mom’s plumbing, “You flushed it!?”

Brian, “Well… Not at first.  It stuck to the side of the toilet.  But then I flushed it again!”

Me, wiping tears from my eyes, already dialing my sister.

Brian, “What the *%#@ was that?!”

Me, “What did you think it was?”

Brian, “Looked like a *%#@ underwear-insert to me.”

Yes.  He actually said “Underwear-Insert.”

Me, Underwear-insert?!

Brian, slowing down and sounding like he had seen a ghost, “Was it a maxi pad?”

Me, Maxi?!

I will never forget his horror.  My sister was already on the other line laughing with me before Brian had even finished getting to the bottom of this traumatizing incident.  It wasn’t until he used the word ‘maxi‘ that I realized just how foreign all this feminine stuff was to him.  (Guys, we just call ’em pads.)

And I am SORRY.  True, this is a little gross and I should be scolded for such a horrific oversight.  (Poor Brian.)  But I am convinced that I am not the first woman to whip off her undies and then toss them into the hamper without a  necessary second thought.  Neither will I be the last.  So beware.

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