This week, for the umpteenth time, I was quite sure that I had completely exhausted my repertoire of really awkward stories. Then, as I was showering, I remembered this one (if I never bathed, I think I'd have a lot less time to think of blog ideas).
You all know the drill: I share an awkward story, you share an awkward story, you link below, and we each feel glad that we're not the most awkward person on the planet.
I'm not sure if I ever mentioned this to you guys before, but Mr. Darling and I lived apart for the first few months we were married. It was awful, and I would never recommend it to anyone else. But see, thanks to Mr. Darling's medical school schedule, there was basically a two-week period during which we could get married. That two-week period took place several months before we could actually live in the same city, as Mr. Darling's medical school was two hours away from my job. See, the first two years of medical school are spent in classrooms, listening to lectures, while the next two years are spent doing rotations - med students spend four weeks at a time in various hospitals and clinics learning about different specialities. Since I already had a job in the city where Mr. Darling was planning to do most of his rotations, it didn't make sense for me to quit and move in with him, only to have to return to find a new job a few months later. So, we lived apart, and as I mentioned before, it was no fun at all.
I'd drive two hours to see Mr. Darling almost every weekend, and I'd stay with him in the house he was renting. Oh, and I should probably mention that he shared this house with two other guys who were also med students. As you might imagine, this arrangement meant that we sometimes had less privacy than newlyweds like to have. Mr. Darling's room was on the second floor of the house, while the other two guys had rooms on the first floor, so it was a little private, but definitely not as much as we liked, and it was sometimes difficult to find an opportunity to engage in certain marital activities...
On one particular Saturday, we found ourselves blissfully alone in the house. Obviously, we took this opportunity to engage in... marital relations. (Haha! That's what my grandma used to call it. I mean, maybe she still does, but the topic doesn't come up all that often when I'm talking to my grandma...) Anyway, we were in the midst of relating, when one of Mr. Darling's roommates came home. But since Mr. Darling had the second floor all to himself, we didn't figure it would be a problem, so we decided to just keep the noise down. This plan seemed to work for about two minutes, when suddenly there was a knock on the bedroom door.
Roommate: "Mr. D? Tova? Are you guys in there?"
Roommate: "Are you guys dressed?"
Me: "... um... no."
Roommate: "Haha! Very funny! Seriously though, can I come in? I want to tell you what just happened." (Jiggles doorknob, which luckily had been locked by Mr. Darling.)
Mr. Darling: "No! We're not joking! Go away!"
Roommate: "You're really not dressed?"
Us: "No! Go away!"
Roommate: "Ok, I'll just tell you from out here..."
Then, through the locked door, Mr. Darling's roommate proceeded to tell us this long story about how he hurt his foot while biking, while we just laid there, giggling and quietly speculating as to what the chances were of him hearing us if we started relating again with him right outside the door (we decided they were too high to risk it).
At least this moment reinforced the importance of locking our bedroom door, so hopefully we won't traumatize our future children during a similar incident sometime in the future.
Now it's your turn! Share an awkward story on your blog, then link below!