Originally titled Caught w/ Pants Down when I wrote it in 2008.
I love bathrooms, and my favorite part of most houses is the bathroom. If I visit you at home, go to a restaurant for the first time or even visit an office building for the first time, best believe, I’ll need to pee. I’ll plup my derriere on the toilet seat, and while I tinkle, I’ll take in the colors, the decor, the tiles and the design layout. On more than one occasion, I signed an lease contract solely on my connection to the bathroom, well, and the rent too. Duh, it’s not that serious!
And as appalling and shameful as this reads, I am also a busybody, and I’ll go through your medicine cabinet. However, I’m NOT looking forward to the day when I will open your medicine cabinet and out of it will tumble out millions of marble balls. I am NOT looking forward to jumping back and shrieking as these marble balls roll down the sink counter unto the ground. I am NOT looking forward to the embarrassment I’ll feel when you jump out from behind your shower curtain relishing in my humiliation, pointing fingers at me and yelling “Haha…got ya.” So I beg you, when I visit, let me know your medicine cabinet is filled with marble balls or get rid of them before I visit. Got it? Good!
Anyways, I digress…back to my story and speaking of favorites….
My favorite place to study in my junior year of college was on the second floor of the Winona State University Library (WSU). Why? I wish I could say it was because it was quiet and the cubicles were comfortable. Yes, the library second floor was all of that, but I studied there simply because it was where ALL the cute guys studied (emphasis on ALL). On this fateful day, I was on the second floor studying at a table with some friends and heard the call of nature. Nature urgently demanded a number one, and fortunately, I had a favorite restroom on that floor. It was my favorite, because it was usually empty and the sink counter just got redone. I went to the bathroom, chose a stall, pulled my pants and panties down and got to the business of peeing. After I was done, I reached over to grab some toilet tissue to finish up my business…lo and behold, my stall had ran out. After a few seconds of contemplating my options, I came up with four…
1. I could pull my freaking pant and panties up. Screw whoever said we needed to wipe. I never wiped when I peed in the gutters of my dorm when I was at Nigerian Navy Secondary School;2. I could climb over the stall wall into the next and finish up there;3. I could crawl under the stall wall into the next and finish up there; or
4. I could open the stall door and walk into the next one to finish up. There was no one here anyways
After a few more seconds of weighing my options, I chose number four. That was when my life went into slow motion for a few minutes. I opened the toilet stall and stepped out with my pant and panties down (Mistake #1). I took my first step, then my second step and as I moved into the third, I heard the restroom door open. My head jerked up and in the mirror I saw a brunette walk in. I swear, her eyes popped out at the sight of me with my pants and panties down and my cute bun in her face. In my foolishness and sheer horror of the situation, I hasten to recover by turning around to head back to familiar territory (Mistake #2), which by the way was my tissue — less stall. That decision gave my poor intruder a view of my front field which hadn’t been mowed in a while and looked like a scene from 1962. WHAT WAS I THINKING?
I got back in to my original stall , and she got into the one right next to mine. I sheepishly asked her to please pass me some toilet paper after incoherently explaining that my stall was out. She obliged and passed me two sheets of the flimsy toilet tissue. I said thank you, but thought, “Geez, did you have to pay for it? What do I wipe with two sheets of this flimsy thing? “ I didn’t bother to ask for more, I chose option one, opted out of washing my hands and left before she was done with whatever she came to the restroom to do. What fun is there in standing next to her at the sink, washing hands, singing “Kumbaya” and pretending she didn’t just see my untamed shrub and full moon.
I went back to the study table and told my friends, and as only true friends can, they laughed at me, and said I smelled like pee. At this point, nothing could shame me, and I could care less about their chuckles and giggles. I sat down in my glorified mess and continued my pretense at studying, and I still had the nerves to wink back at the cute guy sitting two tables down from us. He ended up being my first love. So peeps, whoever said you had to be at your best to find love…lied!
But, I will leave you all to decide the moral of this story!
PS: BTW, I hope my dear alma mater has stepped up its toilet tissue game…