A moment of silence for the dignity of everyone who responded when we asked you to tell us about a time you peed your pants. You have no shame, and you should be proud of that. But my God! A lot of you have pissed yourselves at inopportune times! Here are the best of those stories.
Here’s a common situation: You’re a kid in school, and you ask the teacher if you can use the restroom, and she says no and seals your fate. Bretticus:
In second grade our class was taking a very important test (history I think), and my teacher stressed that we could not get up during said test.
Halfway through, I raised my hand to ask if I could use the restroom, and she replied with a “not until you finish your test.”
You can probably guess the rest. Near the end I couldn’t hold it so I let it all out. When I got up to turn in the test, there was a puddle on the seat and a classroom full of mortified looks.
Lots of people have stories of pants-peeing from childhood, including our own Billy Haisley:
In the middle of a little-league baseball game, sometime probably in the summer after or before second or third grade, I was overcome with the urge to pee. I think because I was too shy to interrupt the game and ask somebody where the bathroom, I tried to hold it until the game was over.
I did pretty well for a while, until the dam felt close to bursting at one point while I was out in the field at shortstop. I was doing the little I Gotta Pee Really Bad Fidget/Dance, trying to calm my mind and stay my bladder. Mid-inning, my coach got up from the bench and called out to me, “Hey Billy, do you need to go to the bathroom?” Again, as the painfully shy kid I was, I just shook my head and said, “No, I’m okay” while still doing a little jig on the base path, praying a batter would hit the ball near me so I could run some of the urge to pee out.
Finally fed up, I remembered some advice a cousin of mine once gave me. He told me once that when you really have to pee, sometimes if you let a little of it out, then cut yourself off, you’ll feel relieved enough to hold back the rest for a little while longer. Out of options, I decided this was my best solution. I let out a little squirt then stopped.
It kind of worked. Immediately after letting out those few droplets, I felt better. Pretending I was fiddling around with my glove or something, I snuck a look down at my grey sweatpants. There was only a little wet splotch visible between my legs, which I thought wouldn’t be all that noticeable. I’d managed to pee enough that I didn’t feel the need to squirm around anymore, but not so much that anyone (in my mind) would notice. An all-around success.
Only the urge soon came back. No matter, I thought. I’ll just let out a little more like last time. To protect against this happening again, I tried to let out more this time. After feeling good about letting loose the short burst I’d intended, I tried to cut myself off. I couldn’t. Turns out, I could only cut the stream without the use of my hands or anything if I opened the faucet only the slightest bit. Anything more and the spigot would rage on until it was empty.
Needless to say I was mortified. I was frozen there for a bit as it hit me that I was peeing myself in front of my teammates on the field, their families in the crowd, my babysitter who’d taken me to the game, my younger brother, and my two neighbor friends who came along with.
I had to admit, though, I did feel better. Still out in the field, and thus separated enough from everyone else that I didn’t think anyone had spotted me yet, I tried thinking of a strategy to minimize my embarrassment. I looked down again to assess the damage.
I noticed that, from my inner thighs all the way down to my socks, my sweatpants were a darker shade of grey than the surrounding dry areas. I imagined that, since the evidence ran straight down the middle of my sweatpants, it probably wasn’t completely obvious that I’d just peed my pants when I stood straight up with my legs close together.
With that in mind, my plan was simple: play everything off like nothing had happened and stay in the game, but make sure never to move any faster than a brisk walk, so that I could keep my legs as close together as possible. My team eventually got the third out, and I stiffly shuffled back to the dugout, avoiding all eye contact.
In retrospect, everyone had to have noticed. My coach probably didn’t want to embarrass me further by calling me out in front of the team, so he let me stay in the game without addressing the pee stains. Neither did any of my fellow players. I don’t remember ever batting after peeing, so it had to have been close to the end of the game when I peed myself. Doing everything at half-speed, at least when I was close enough to people to be worried about them seeing, I finished the game and got in the car.
On the drive home, nobody mentioned anything. As we got out of the car and went to go inside when we got home, by babysitter looked at my pants and said something like, “Man, it must’ve been really hot out there from all that sweating you were doing.” At that point, one of the neighbor friends who went with us said “Sweat?! That’s pee!” I started laughing.
“What? No it isn’t, it’s sweat” the babysitter responded. “Isn’t it, Billy?”
Still laughing, I said “Nope, I peed myself in the middle of the game.” Everyone thought it was more funny than anything else. Since I’d gotten out of the game without any firsthand embarrassment, I also saw the whole ordeal in comic terms. I didn’t think I went to school with any of my teammates who could’ve held the incident against me, and even if I did, I figured the story would’ve died down by the time school started back up.
Luckily I was at that age where peeing your pants was looked down upon, but not so much as to be a reputation- and/or life-ruining faux pas. And it was the first and last time anything like that had ever happened to me. A good life lesson.
There are plenty of stories from our reader’s younger years, like Corbetto’s tale of how laughing at someone else’s piss plight ended in a beating.
This is about how an upper-classman peed himself and I got beat up, as a freshman, for laughing.
It was 1989, and a nice spring day. Between classes, I decided to stop in the boys room to relieve myself. There were several older boys in there, at the urinals already. I stopped and as I considered the stall, a loud explosion could be heard in the near distance... and then the building shook, hard like an earthquake.
As stunned as everyone was, they were equally stunned at their friend, who stumbled from the jolt, fell backwards and proceeded - penis still out—to piss all over himself. ALL OVER.
The look on his face was more than I could take. I snickered. And before my chubby legs could get my freshman ass out of that restroom—you know, to find out if I could help in the rescue effort—the friends descended on me, and slugged me into submitting I’d never speak of their piss-covered buddy’s “accident.” I took several bruises home that day, but it didn’t stop me from sharing the story of the unknown junior who covered himself head to toe while lying flat on his back in the boys room.
[The explosion? A gas leak in an old lady’s row home just off the high school campus.]
JustTheTippingPoint has a story about peeing his pants at snowboarding camp:
Snowboarding Camp, summer after 8th grade, at Mt. Hood in Oregon. There was a bathroom at the base of the mountain, but nothing at the top where there was one operating chairlift since it was summer and we basically just spent the entire day at the terrain park.
Fun side note: This was 1999 and long before the concussion-awareness era. Imagine 10-16 years olds, varying from minimal to borderline-pro experience, launching off of jumps and sliding onto rails with little direction, coaching - and of course - no helmets. My friend hit the back of his head on a rail, went unconscious and didn’t know where he was. and he was back on the mountain trying 360s and crashing and failing miserably the very next morning.
Anyway, I had to piss worse than I ever had in my life. Problem being - it was a good 5 minute ride to the base and I couldn’t hold it. I tried to veer off and go by a tree, but since it was summer, there really was only one run and nowhere to go to the side and piss. Rather than search for a good place to urinate, I tried to make it to the bottom. For whatever reason that escapes me now - I couldn’t make it. I pissed - a good minute to a minute and a half - in my snowboarding pants. It was warm and salty and felt like it would never end. It drenched the lining of my boots and seeped into my socks. On the bus back to camp - everyone was complaining why it smelled like piss. “Yeah, weird.’ I muttered.
When we got back, I raced to the cabin and threw my clothes in the washer (luckily each cabin had one). Still had my piss-soaked boots to deal with. I found my friend’s deodorant and rubbed the old spice all over the boots. He was concussed as Wes Welker after a 3rd and 4 slant - not like he would remember.
No story exchange about pissing oneself would be complete without some tales from college. Here’s AAAPharmClub:
In college, after a party, sitting in my room with my date. My roommate is passed out on the futon across the room from us. We are just watching TV and talking when all of a sudden my roommate gets up and stumbles over to the closet. I ask him what he is doing and he mumbled something. I then hear the distinct sound of pee hitting the floor. I yell at him to stop pissing in the closet and he points to the door (going out to the hallway) and says - does that say closet...no...stfu. What else could I do? He finished up and passed back out on the futon. My date quickly exited stage left. He had no recollection of the incident.
A nice cover-up job from ShamrockFury:
While I was in college, the most popular bar had $5 pitchers of beer on Wednesday nights. These were my prime drinking years, and I could easily put back 3-4 pitchers in a night. (Not bragging, I didn’t do well in school). This particular night, I met a girl and was fortunate enough to bring her back to my friends apartment. He never came home, so we took to his bed. Next morning, I wake up naked and absolutely swimming in piss; at least 2 pitchers worth. She wakes up and sees how soaked the bed is, asks if I peed. Luckily my friend had an empty supersize McDonald’s cup on his nightstand, explained that I had just spilled water and she accepted it. My friend came home an hour later to find me washing his sheets and flipping his mattress....it had soaked through to the other side.
Do you have a story about that one time your buddy didn’t know the sink from the toilet? KoolWhp sure does:
Oh god. This is taking me back. This was spring of 2004. I had graduated from college two years earlier, but a few friends were still attending our large state school, so I would come back and hang with them once every couple months.
I had a regular 9-to-5 job and therefore cut down on the partying pretty quick after college. My friends, still in the thick of the “weekend-starts-on-Wednesday-afternoon” mindset, obviously had not.
My two friends lived in a really large shared condo with a couple of their acquaintances, who were all randoms to me. One night my friends and I got drunk, which was par for the course, but we also smoked a ton of weed and spent hours and hours doing our favorite activity, which was Super Mario Kart Highly Impaired Driving.
As I noted, I was out of practice and the weed was doing funny things to my mind. Apparently at some point (and this was, like, three in the morning), I had excused myself to go pee and they found me, 20 minutes later, standing at the kitchen sink, beer in hand, staring out the window, with piss dripping down my leg. Like, I was just standing there staring out the the winter night fully relieving myself with no remorse.
Being gross-ass college dudes, I do not recall either myself or my friends cleaning it up. I heard later that one of their other roommates declared a (looking back on it, a quite understandable) fatwa against me staying there anymore. It lasted about six weeks until I returned with a conciliatory bottle of fucking Southern Comfort.
Ah, to be young and terrible.
Oh god, there’s pee everywhere. Jim Irsay’s Briefcase:
This one is more about what my college roommate did. My self and another one of the 4 guys that lived in our apartment turned 21 on back to back days, so our apartment got a couple kegs and had all our friends over to celebrate. One of the kegs didn’t get finished night of the party, so a bunch of guys decided to keep drinking the following day - Sunday. Now my actual birthday landed on that Sunday and just so happens to land on Valentine’s Day - so I had to go out for the typical Valentine’s Day/Birthday meal with my girlfriend at the time and did not get to partake in the drinking. Everybody else, except the other roommate who turned 21 this weekend finished the keg, all blacked out and pissed in every single room in the apartment - all bedrooms, bathroom, living room, and kitchen. I received a text at dinner from said sober roommate saying “don’t come home, everybody pissed everywhere and I’m mopping the kitchen. J*** is passed out hunched over the kitchen counter with his dick out after he pissed himself”. Needless to say my girlfriend was not pleased, I did not get to get any birthday fun that night, AND I did not get to be the drunkest person on my own 21st birthday. Life is not fair.
Hey it happens. It also happens in adulthood. TomSpanks12:
I was 32 years old and staying at my sister-in-law’s for the nephew’s first birthday. I ended up having a few too many, so I was confused when I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I couldn’t figure out whose house I was in, so I kept fumbling around for the door knob. Eventually, I found my way out of that death box of a room, only I immediately tumbled down the half-flight of stairs to the right. On the way down, my bladder gave way and I pissed myself right there on the landing. My mother-in-law was never more proud to see me laughing hysterically like a maniac covered in piss.
A guy at work was doing this bit where he maintained every question could be answered by, “bend over and I’ll show you”. Minor laughs. “What’s wrong with this copier? Bend over and I’ll show you.”
At the end of the week we all went out to this outdoor bar, and much alcohol was consumed. I’m not one for drinking a LOT, but that night I kind of did. (Also I’m getting up there in age, and “those” commercials are beginning to speak to me, if you know what I mean. Alcohol, in addition to its many excellent qualities, is also a liquid that fills your bladder.)
One guy starts griping about his interaction with our terrible, terrible help desk, and he says: “And then she says to me, how else can I help make your day excellent?”
And I chime in with — you know. I laughed at my own stupid joke SO HARD I completely wet ‘em. I had to put the emergency blanket on the seat on the way home.
I used to be a corporate trainer (like an educator on in-house products and such) and we get evaluated twice a year. Normally I run a pretty laid back class but because these evaluations were announced to us ahead of time, I always made it a point to notify the class as to make me look good (most classes liked me). I drink a ridiculous amount of water a day so I didn’t mind interrupting the class once in a while if I need to drain the snake. Fast forward to evaluation day and this very intimidating dude is sitting at the back of the class listening to this insane drivel I’m drilling into these poor saps when it hits me: I have to pee so bad I can taste it. Because I don’t want to look ridiculous, I try and hold it in until break time, which is about 45 minutes away. I last about 35 and this is when I start to losing. I’m a sweaty, twitching mess as I’m trying to conceal my very obvious problem and just trying to make it alive. About 2 minutes before break, I decide I can no longer suffer like this and call it. Breaks are a funny thing: They make you think you can lay back as you finally have time to yourself. My bladder thought the same. I pissed a solid half a cup before I managed to stop mid-pee and do this bizarre half crabwalk to the bathroom where I proceed to finish off the most satisfying piss of my life. Unfortunately, I then had to get evaluated, wet khakis and all (I tried to say it was water from the sink but the smell gave it away), sitting while this man told me what would improve on my teaching. I cut the class loose and had a beer by myself on that day, still reeking of piss while contemplating many life choices.
Or sometimes you think you’re dreaming, but really you’re just pissing yourself. Hingle McCringleberry:
In my early 20’s, I got sick, called out of work, and spent the day with some weird flu-like symptoms. I had a really high fever, and I’ve always had some weird fever dreams since I was a child. They tend to be incredibly lifelike.
So, I’m lying in bed, and I am just straight tripping balls. I am going between awake and dreaming. But I’m completely convinced my dreams are real. Having been downing fluids per every mother’s orders, I am in my bed, and I realize I have to pee. Now, in my fever dream, I am on a boat, and I’m like, well, why don’t I just piss into the water? A voice in the back of my head is like “this might be a dream”, and I remember thinking “ok, i’ll just piss a little, and if it’s a dream, I’ll wake up” - this kind of logic is only possible when deeply, deeply screwed up. So, yup, i start peeing, and instantly realize I’m in my bed, peeing myself. At which point I stop, go to the bathroom, and actually pee.
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