Anonymous Poo recently dated a guy she’ll call Marcus. AP and Marcus had a lot in common. Their dates were great – flirtatious and entertaining. They managed to keep a great shtick going for hours.
A strange look passed over Marcus’ face. It was a momentary look of fear, clouded over by a look of curiosity. He took a slow sip of his wine (a nice rose, to go with the poached fish he was eating), then inhaled deeply, and said…
“Hmm… intriguing. What?”
“Well,” AP started. “I have a blog. About poo.”
“Umm… did you just say ‘poo?’”
“Yes. I blog about poo.”
“Like descriptions? With photos?”
“Pshaw. No. Imagine if Audrey Hepburn or Miss Manners blogged about poo. That’s what my blog is like. It’s all very ladylike.”
Marcus paused. “Well, I don’t know how to say this… but you don’t seem like… the type.”
He continued. “It’s just very… surprising. Totally unexpected. I’m not sure what to say about it. It’s just kinda… gross.”
AP was taken aback. What is the “type?” And what’s gross about a little friendly poo banter? She had always believed that everyone loved poo.
And with that one, little revelation, the lighthearted conversations that had made their dates so fun ended. AP and Marcus had entered into a deeper, more serious territory. Marcus wasn’t ready to accept this side of AP and AP didn’t want to pretend to be someone she was not just to get a boyfriend.
So AP and Marcus parted ways, with AP vowing to reveal her alter ego earlier in the dating process in the future. She’s even contemplating creating a match.com profile with the username anonymouspoo and the tagline “I blog poo” to separate the real men from the meek. She knows that somewhere, out in the great wide universe, there's a Mr. Anonymous Poo just looking for his soulmate.
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