hester prynne

Days like today make me terrified of what is to come, of what I will be like when I am an old man and lose the control of my bladder that I worked so hard to gain all those years ago when I was being potty trained. Between my Russian Novel class and my Romantic Novel class, there is supposed to be a gap of ten minutes but I always somehow get to College Hall before the other class gets out and so to occupy some time, I thought I would go pee in the bathroom downstairs, the bathroom that two years ago had the coolest cubist wallpaper in the world, but for some reason last year was painted a very boring white color, a white not very bright, just a boring white.

And so then, I went upstairs to my classroom which was now empty, sat down and started to glance at my book, I then noticed that my arm was moist from resting on my leg. I look down at my leg to see a decent sized little moist circle that I assumed to obviously be pee, and I took a whiff and sure enough it was pee. I didn't wear any underwear today because I am wearing these tight girl pants that hang down so low they expose my pubes, and so I guess there was nothing to absorb the post pee drip that for some reason took place today. Wallace came in, started class and asked us each to get up and write a scene we wanted to discuss up on the board. I hesitated so long before getting up, slightly embarrassed about this little pee spot that I was sure everyone in my class, all six people including the professor around a little table, sure that all of them could smell the urine smell that I could so easily smell, that they would see where the smell was coming from when I got up to the board, see the little circle, the insigna of my loserness, the urine spot. I rushed to the board quickly after Wallace said for the second time that she wanted everyone to write a scene up on the board and even more quickly resumed my seat, hoping that no one saw the stain, the little circle of denim darker than the rest.

Most of class, I did not even pay attention to what anyone was saying, anything that was said, my one concern was my bladder, how I was sure that I could not control it, how my penis was in tight contact with this wet spot on my jeans and how it would continue to just drip out urine rather that holding it in my bladder because it would be confused, if only I could somehow shift my penis to the other side of my jeans, the dry side, if only I was not at this stupid table sitting right next to the professor I could just readjust myself. But no, I had to sit with my penis in contact with the pee spot, worrying whether or not I would be able to control my bladder, whether or not I could possibly qualify as an adult, a fucking basic adult with basic adult capabilities if I could not even control my bladder. With my arm resting on my jeans, I hoped to conceal my wet spot from Wallace who I was sitting next to and to also try to dry the wet spot with my arm so that I would not piss myself more, so that this spot would go away, so that I would not make this little circle of urine expand into a huge circle, a circle of piss so big it would swallow you and your unborn children, it would saturate all the denim kept in closets, in stores, all the denim that Mister Levi could ever hope to manufacture to sell to your demin loving consumerist ass, to eveyone's denim loving consumerist ass, it would swallow the youth of this nation, of any for that matter - it was bad news and it all seemed like it could be averted if only I could stuff my hands down my pants and shift my cock and balls to the other side of the crotch seam, the dry side - I was fearing the worse, that I had lost control over my bodily functions, that I was a fucking baby, a fucking old man, something other than what I try my damnedest to concieve of myself as.

Eventually the pee dried.