When I feel the familiar twinge of autonomic dysreflexia shoot through my body like a freezing lightning bolt, I start looking for clues immediately. Last year at a Tony Robbins event, a glance down at my lap revealed an ominous and growing wet stain on my pants. I was urinating on myself in front of 6,000 people!
Frustrated, I turned to skulk toward the bathroom just as the speaker on stage instructed us to partner up for an exercise. Surprisingly, the most radiant and truly gorgeous woman I have ever seen jumped up from a couple of rows away and proclaimed me her partner. Everything happened in slow-motion — a magic light shone down, angels sang. I was simultaneously mesmerized and embarrassed by my increasingly soaking pants. Not one to miss out on an opportunity, I clung to the handouts on my lap for coverage and stayed. For three hours, I conversed with my dream woman while pee dripped down my leg.
Fast forward, I’m still single.
— Tony Robbins’ Number One Fan