Okay, so, I'm probably one of the grosser people you know. I pick my nose, fart with abandon, pee with the door open and use my spit to shine away ash whether or not lotion is available. I'm not, like, disgusting by any means. But with age, my friends, comes ambivalence. We all got shit -- literally -- and I've been over trying to hide the smell. Just deal.
But in the dichotomy that was my child-rearing by a hippie lesbian who refused to shave her pits but would cut me for going to school in a unstarched, untucked shirt, there are certain "life practices" (as my friend Kellee would call them) that I just flat out cannot condone.
Stealing another line from another friend (the homie Jesus), "and the greatest of these is" leaving piss on the public toilet seat.
In general, a lot of women like to assume that "the men's" is the vilest of holes in the ground. So much so that they will risk a UTI waiting in a line 10 deep before even considering using the perfectly "not so bad" empty stall that just so happens to have a sombrero painted on it instead of a skirt.
I am not one of these women.
Recently while out at one of those dive bars with $2 drinks I swear I swore off years ago, the line for the lady's was unjustly lengthy. I say unjust because we all know the way "the man" has destroyed bathroom equity is totally unfair. Women take longer in there. We don't just shake and bake. And more time means more stalls. It's science. And yet there we all were, an ever-growing snake of tipsy ladies doing the pee pee dance and gazing longingly at the nonexistent line for the men's.
Instead of waiting for my seat, I took a stand and ventured over to the land of urinals and that one stall they put in for the one guy who has to poop. I announced myself first, stating clearly and firmly, "I'm coming in here now." Then I did what my mother taught me -- hovered, handled, wiped and washed. But when I told the other girls how "not gross" it was in there, it's like nobody believed me. They just stared at me wide-eyed and kept waiting in their line.
At 32, I've definitely relieved myself in plenty of places that were marked for official use, including the men's restroom. The only reason I could think of for other women not doing the same (besides maybe shyness) is that they think men are simply dirtier and possibly disease carrying. But are we any better?
I have yet to use a guy's loo with yellow tinkle sprinkled all over the seat. (I can't, however, vouch for the smell). But the lady's? Man, it's like no one saw this magic markered sign taped to the bathroom door in college, "If you float when you piss, wipe when you miss."
I'm an accidental purveyor of public restrooms -- seeing as how I work from everywhere -- and the amount of gross stuff I see in the vagina lair far outweighs whatever piss contests we imagine boys are having. I'm just saying it's safe to say that none of us are made of sugar and spice, it's mostly slugs and snails and clearly bad aim. So why all the hemming and hawing?