Maurice and I had been in a very successful, semi-long-distance relationship for about seven months. We live about forty-five minutes away from each other. So, every weekend we would either meet half way, or one of us would take turns driving. My story takes place at a time when it was my turn to drive. The night started off perfectly. I picked him up, we had a fabulous meal, we had some alone time, and then we went to the movies. When I was driving him home, he was strangely quiet and awkwardly still. When we arrived at his house, he leaned over, kissed me, and then quickly exited the car. When I was halfway home, I remembered that my favorite CD was in the passenger door. As I reached across, I soon realized the seat was wet. I pulled over to the side of the road and turned on the car light. The seat was soaked and kind of smelly. Then I thought to myself, "I know this grown man did not urinate on the seat of my car." I immediately pulled out my cell phone and called Maurice to find out what for. The conversation went like this; The phone rings. Maurice: "Hey, Baby." Me: "Just answer me one question. Did you pee in my car?" Maurice: "What?" Me: "DID YOU PEE IN MY CAR!?" Maurice: "I really had to go and I just couldn't hold it." Me: "ARE YOU SICK?!" Maurice: "No, Baby. I have a problem with my bladder. If you love me, you will understand." Me: "Well, then I guess I don't love you! Don't call me again... EVER!" Pretty much that's all she wrote. He called me for three months after the breakup begging to get back with me. Finally, I changed my number and called it a day. I know I may come across as the cold figure in this story, but what would you do if someone peed in your car? -- Linda, 29