People who don’t menstruate rarely want to think about what the process entails. Heck, people who do menstruate usually don’t want to think about it. That’s why we’re so often caught unprepared. While you might expect a friend to have an extra piece of gum or a dollar to lend you, they rarely have everything a person needs for an emergency Aunt Flor situation. That’s why this story from Reddit user I_Removed_Something is so incredible.
She wanted to share what happened when she was out hiking with a bunch of guys and things went south. Literally.
It begins with a definition:
“Period Fairy: A person who unexpectedly and tactfully helps you through a period emergency.”
The writer says she and a few other people go hiking three times a week, and there are usually two other women on the trail, but that day they were at the movies. It was just here and three guys.
“They shall be named here as Dave, John, and Teddy,” she wrote. “I’ll be Jane.”
Their usual hike leaves from close to Teddy’s house, then takes 3-5 hours to complete. When it’s over they eat a picnic lunch, then call an Uber back to Teddy’s. That day, they had some early breakfast and hit the trail. Everyone carries different supplies, and Dave is responsible for the first aid kit. He also has a huge backpack full of surprises. Here’s where the plot thickens:
“So we’re hiking for hours, nothing is happening, then about twenty minutes from the end of the trail, it hits me. I didn’t feel it coming at all, and it’s like four days early. I immediately slink back like 20 feet from the group and start having a panic attack. I had NOTHING on me and I was wearing shorts. At least they were black, but they wouldn’t hold much. I’d also 100% bleed up the Uber.
Like five minutes later, after I’d decided on stuffing my bra down my shorts, Dave looks back and notices me walking like a goblin. To my horror, he falls back and starts walking next to me. He leans in and whispers,
“Do you need to pee?”
I’m like, huh? Then I realized I’m like doubled over with my hands on my crotch. Seemed obvious.
“No, I, that’s not,” I’m stammering.
“Period issue?” he says next.
At that point I’m like this and I just mumble “yeah.””
This is what that pic looks like:
Dave, the Period Fairy, came through with this:
“And then, this guy, this fucking glorious, magnificent guy, he calls out to John and Teddy: “Hey, Jane’s scraped her arm on a tree or some shit, I’m gonna tend to it but it’s gonna be like five minutes. Just get to the road and set up lunch and call the car.”
John says sure and the two of them keep on walking. Dave slides off his magical backpack and opens a pouch on the front of it. “Pads or tampons?” he says.
I mutter “tampons,” completely stunned at all this. He pulls out three tampons, the good kind, and a handful of wet-naps. Hands them to me and then he opens the main compartment and pulls out a long sleeve black t-shirt. “Go in the trees and take care of it, then tie the shirt around your waist.” He then pulls out a big band-aid and slaps it on my arm to keep up his cover story.
I ask him why he had these, he’s just like, “I’ve been hiking with women for years, you think I’m stupid?”
He turns and wanders like 50 feet away while I hobble into the woods. Come out a few minutes later all cleaned up and with the shirt covering my bum. He doesn’t say another word about it as we get to the end of the trail. We eat while we wait for the car to show, get to Teddy’s, and now I’m home.
I think I love Dave now. Is it normal that I love Dave?
It’s true what they say, not all heroes wear capes. They do, however, wear magic backpacks.”