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I'm so glad I can't see anyone. I was hoping at least for my second beer.  

When I turned 40 years old, my libido went through the roof. I was thinking about sex all of the time. Unfortunately, my marriage was on its last legs. And so there was no affection, let alone sex. Still, it was another three years before I got up the nerve to leave my husband. And when I did, I was starved for affection, and I was starved for sex, and I was starved for adventure. I think I was having a classic midlife crisis.  

So, this is around three years ago now. So, I was delighted to meet a guy who I really, really liked. He was cute and funny and smart and well-read and a great writer. And where I was really inexperienced sexually, he was probably the most sexually experienced person I've ever met: bisexual, a practicing bisexual. He's kinky. And he hosts sex parties. So, I hit the jackpot.  

So, I was really excited to meet this guy because he was a really nice guy. We started dating. And only after about two months, we were at his apartment—and now I'm really glad I can't see anybody—and we were having sex. And, we'd been having sex for about three hours. And doing things that I had never done, which is pretty much everything. So, we were having sex and he turned to me and said, "Say, have you ever had a G-spot orgasm?"  

And I said, "Of course not!"  

So, he said, "Lie down."  

And now I all want you to close your eyes. So, I lay down on the bed. And he was kneeling, facing me. And I thought G-spot orgasm was kind of an urban myth. But it's not. So, he's doing the thing with his hand and on my G-spot. And I was sort of, getting closer and closer and closer. And, finally, I sort of reached the peak moment. "Aaaahhhhhhh!" And something was terribly wrong. Fun turned to tragedy. And I put my hands over my face, and I said, "Did I just poop?" 

And he said, "Yup." 

And I was frozen, I was just, I was lying there going "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!"  

And he said, "Uh, you might want to go get yourself cleaned up."  

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" 

I jumped out of bed. I took two steps toward the bathroom, and then he said, "Here, you might want to take this with you."  

And I turned around and he was holding a wadded-up tissue with my poop on it. And I swear to God I thought, "I'm not touching that!" So, I grabbed it. I dashed into the bathroom. And I was mortified! Who wouldn't be? I was on the verge of tears. I was cleaning myself up thinking, "What— How can this get worse? I threw up on his lap giving him a blow job. And now I just shat in his bed." And I'm thinking, “How can this possibly, possibly get worse?” And then it dawned on me that it couldn't. And I felt this overwhelming sense of relief. I had just done the worst thing that anybody can do while having sex. So, I had it out of the way. Nothing bad can happen to me again while having sex. 

So, after that sense of relief came a sort of sense of exaltation. Sort of the way I think people who have survived airplane crashes might feel: not physically invincible, but mentally. And I'm kind of un-embarrassable now. So—dry mouth—next time you do something stupid or embarrassing, you tell someone they're—congratulations on their pregnancy, and they've just gained weight, or you get back from a lunch meeting and—oh God, you have spinach in your teeth—just take a deep breath. Think of me and tell yourself, "At least I didn't poop in someone's bed."