Story time! It's a long one but bear with me, eh. I've had it in my chest for more than a decade. No one knows. Really. And now everyone will know. Whateva!

When I was 17, I dated this guy whom I considered my first boyfriend. Ehem. He was the first guy whom I brought home to meet my parents and he, too, brought me to his. It was a big deal then, to meet parents. Haha. And I was so flattered. Betul. Tak bedek. Macam dah confirm gitu :p

Anyway, one day in Ramadhan, I was at his place and his mom was doing some goodies. I don't know what it's called exactly, but I believe it's 'keciputan'. It's actually tiny balls made of flour that you later roll them on a bed of sesame seeds before you fry it. So I sat on their old-fashioned 'kerusi Pak Awang' for about an hour and a half to make the tiny balls with his mom while he lounged in front of the tv.

I can't remember if it was in a midst of my 'that-time-of-the-month', or I just had it there and then, but the next thing I remember was standing up and realising that I've dirtied the seat! My God! It was so bloody-soaked-in-a-blood-bloody! I was scared shit horrified! I sat back on it before his mom noticed. My fingers continued doing the balls, but my mind was whirling like the tornado. I didn't know what to do. His mom kept talking and I kept nodding. I couldn't think anymore. I wanted to cry.

The moment his mom left for the kitchen, I called him over and embarassingly told him the tragic event. He was shocked when he saw it. I can't blame him. I was shocked myself! It was the most humiliating thing I've ever done! We sat there staring at each other, thinking what we should do. Finally he told me to clean myself and let him handle things. Yeah, as if!

Luckily, my blouse was long and could cover the mess I've made on myself. I was prepared to face his mom. I thought, that's it. I'm never gonna step on his home again. Never ever! But when I came back to the living room, I saw no mess on the seat. Smart-ass must've turned the cushion over. But it still couldn't take away the humiliation. Sigh. He said he will do something about it another day and I was so grateful I could cry.

Few days later, he said, "Mak bising pasal I dah tumpahkan kopi abih tak tahu nak bersihkan." So the bloody thing turned dark and his mom assumed it's coffee, eh. I expected him to clean it for me, but I guess I expected too much. Poor makcik. I feel bad. Very bad.

What's even worse, this makcik now happens to live with her eldest son just next block from mine. When I see her, out of politeness, I'll stop by and chat. And she never failed to bring up old memories when her younger son and I were together. Especially, "Ingat tak dulu Ina (that's my other nick) tolong makcik buat kuih?" or "Ina tolong makcik buat kuih apa eh dulu?" Gawwwwd, Makcik, must you recall THAT time??? I think she knooowwwwwwwsss!!! Damn her son!

Great. It's off my chest now. But why am I still feeling the burden? I think I need to talk to her son and kick him in the ass for not doing what I expected him to do. And by the way, for the record, this is not the reason why we broke up. That will be another story, another time.

And hubby, me, too, have a humiliating story about the past that no one knows. But I'm sharing it with you and the world now. You only shared yours with me. Do you know that I'm itching to spread it to the world? Wakaka.