Fifteen years post-surgery, it isn't even close to the biggest deal in my life, but yeah, it was less than amusing at the time. My first wife, despite having been told by three different doctors that my condition was not caused by drinking and smoking, nor was it even particularly exacerbated by those habits, insisted on believing that I *was* to blame (my ex wife is very, very big on blame being assigned for everything which she believes to be bad. Strangely, I have rarely heard her blame herself for *anything*). My resulting physical modifications made me considerably less attractive to her, and so my ileostomy become one more piece of the complex puzzle that led to our separation and divorce about a year later.
I took that as a fairly big blow, but during the 90's I discovered that a reasonable sort of woman cared not a whit about such matters, and so I was blessed with sort of a second bachelorhood before meeting Selene. I learned a lot about myself and about others through it all.
Sometimes, things happen for a reason. Even crummy things. I try not to excessively dwell on my digestive modifications, but my inherent insecurities over it do raise their ugly heads from time to time. Despite never having had an actual unplesant interpersonal situation due to it, outside of my first wife, that is, I have some issues as Selene and I continue to explore the poly status of our marriage. I know that *she* loves me and is unperturbed by the thing, but it has always been a dicey feeling when arriving at the moment of doffing the knickers and getting down to business with someone who was previously unaware of my streamlining.
But at least I don't have to worry about ripping a big fart in the sack with someone for the first time.
