Poo Asks That?!

, , , , | Friendly | June 22, 2020

My wife’s family is French, and we try to get over to visit them a couple of times a year. I love my in-laws, but they can be quite outgoing at times, and as a thirty-eight-year-old Autistic man, I find this a bit tiring.

For Christmas a couple of years ago, we were staying with my wife’s sister, her husband, and their son. My wife likes to keep me informed when we are about to meet people so I can prepare myself mentally and emotionally. I’m usually all right once I meet them; it’s just the thought of meeting new people for the first time that makes me anxious.

On this occasion, my wife told me that her sister’s husband’s brother would be visiting with his wife, and told me a little bit about them so I knew roughly what to expect.

When they arrive, I am in the bathroom, so I am unable to properly say hello. I hear them arrive and go through the typical French greeting of a kiss on each cheek. I finish in the bathroom and go to the room where my wife and I are sleeping to grab something, planning to head for the living room and say hello properly.

I turn to leave the room when I am met by a woman at the door, who I assume is the wife in the couple. The following brief conversation happens, in French:

In-Law: “You must be [My Name]!”

Me: “Yes.”

She tells me her name, but I can’t make it out because she speaks so fast.

In-Law: “Okay, hello.”

She shakes my hand instead of kissing my cheeks.

In-Law: “Was your poo good, then?”

Me: *Utterly mortified* “Uh… yes?”

She grins and walks off. I stay in the bedroom, trying not to cry. In my head, I am thinking, “What the actual h*** is wrong with this woman? WHO ACTUALLY ASKS THAT?!”

I decide not to leave the bedroom and instead lay on the bed, reading. Eventually, my wife comes to see what is wrong. The following conversation happens in English:

Wife: “Here you are, [My Name]!”

Me: “Hi.”

Wife: “Are you coming to say hello?”

Me: “Maybe.”

My wife notices something is wrong.

Wife: “Is everything all right?”

Me: “Yes.”

My wife eventually persuaded me to tell her what was wrong, and tearfully, I told her about my “encounter.” She was disgusted and horrified, and she apologised profusely. I told her that the only person I wanted an apology from was “the stupid b*** in the living room who thinks she’s a f****** comedian!” My wife told me I could stay in the bedroom until the visitors left, so I did. She asked me if I’d like her to tell her sister what happened, but I asked her not to because I was too embarrassed.

I haven’t seen this woman since the incident, but if I ever meet her again I’ll have to bite my tongue because I have a few choice words for her!

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