I
don't care how dirty it is. I don't care if
they all pee on the seats. I don't even care about the
smell.
I will use the
men's bathroom over the
women's any day.
Here's why: Because
men are there to
pee and leave. If you've never been in a women's restroom, especially in an
office building, consider yourself
blessed. Every fucking time I go in there, there's at least
two or three insipid secretaries huddled around the
sinks,
blabbing all over the place about their
clothes, their
sex lives or lack thereof,
what they bought today, and of course how
blisteringly difficult the life of a secretary is. And I'm sitting in a
stall, bareassed on a
toilet, and I'm expected to pee like this?
All I want to hear in a
bathroom is people
peeing. Sure, sometimes there's the rather uncomfortable
fart moments, or even the
often disgusting encounters with
raucous bowel movements. But those are
expected once in a while. It's a bathroom.
My
problem is that it's not a
conference room, and especially,
exceptionally, quite definitely NOT a
therapist's office. But no. You walk into that
girly bathroom, and you are suddenly stuck in
girly hell. "Honestly, I don't know
what he sees in her." "Can you believe
she said that?" "Oh, I'm so sick of these
migranes. Does anybody have a
Valium?" "Yes, I got this
cute outfit at so-and-so's..."
I do not like my
intent to pee being
overridden by an
urge to barf. I've told them to
shut up and get out several times, but the
idea is that, since they can't
waste their whole workday with
soap-opera drivel, they have to
infect my
peeing time instead. So they
won't stop. Eventually I will
kill them all; for now I just
use the men's whenever I can get away with it.