This sounds fun, but I promise you it’s not and it’s ruined carrots for me forever. Also, obligatory not today but two years ago.

Let’s flashback to a year ago, I picked up my VERY drunk (now ex) boyfriend from the pub. We were pretty early on in the relo so I thought this would be a great opportunity to get the boyf to open up and spill his secrets.

I asked him, ‘Hey, tell me a secret.’ and what he said next will forever haunt me to my core. He turned to me, looked me dead in the eye, and said ‘I like to stick things up my ass. I like to stick *carrots* up my ass.’

Now don’t get me wrong, I am a big fan of carrots as a vegetable. Before ‘the incident’ I would eat them everyday as a quick snack, and use them for all my cooking. I would say I would rate them as God Tier.

And I’m definitely not one to kink shame, if anything – I froth a good kink, but something about the carrots made me sad. Possibly, the fact that I put carrots high up on the vegetable hierarchy and this seemed like blasphemy. The carrot gods are crying. I also suggested getting a legitimate sex toy for him, but each time I asked I was shut down with scoff.

Despite the carrot-shame it brought me, I decided to support him on his carrot endeavor.

He was beyond happy with the carrot-support, and told me he’s waited years to finally tell someone. So flash forward through the next 12 months of my life which consisted of only getting him off by sticking a carrot up his crack, him spending copious amounts from our joint account on bags of carrots, and me coming home from a long days at work to see two soggy carrots in the shower with a sad bottle of lube.

It’s been a year since carrot-gate, and I still can’t look at one without shedding a tear. Ultimately, I think it was the carrots that ended the relationship. I was never orange enough.

TL;DR: I asked my boyfriend to tell my a secret and he confessed he loves sticking carrots up his clacker. The next year of my life is now only referred to as ‘carrot-gate.’