the sock

As many of you know, my husband and I fell in love running. Here I write a story from when the falling-in-love was taking place.
One day, when he was still trying to woo me, we were on a run and suddenly he had to go. (Not just go #1, he was barely holding #2 in).
"Um Miriam," he said quietly.
"Yeah Camm?" this was before I knew how to read if he was nervous to tell me something.
"So, I really need to use a restroom, do you think there's somewhere we could stop?"
We were in a neighborhood where I knew no one and probably five miles away from the nearest store.
"Um, you mean like at one of these houses?" I was a little weirded out and I told him so, "I think that's a little strange.Can't you just hold it? We'll be back in like a half hour."
"No, Miriam. I really can't hold it."
It was dark outside and we came to a small break in houses, "I think I'll just go here." I looked up and saw a small field (mind you, we are still VERY much in the middle of a neighborhood.
"OK, I guess I'll run along. Just catch up when you're done," I distanced myself quickly--hoping to not be associated with a street pee-er.
Several minutes later Camm finally caught up to me.
I tried to play it cool (like I didn't think he was a freak), "Hey dude."
And then he said to me, "Um, Miriam, just please don't ask what happened to my sock."
I looked down, and sure enough he had one sock off. It all suddenly became clear: I wasn't associating with a street pee-er, rather a street pooper. And apparently a sock makes good TP when you're in a bind.
We passed the same spot later in daylight and noticed the sign on the gate Camm had gone under:

I guess whoever owned the field didn't appreciate Camm's little surprise.

Isn't it amazing that Camm and I actually did fall in love running?