Dude, That is so Gay

A guy walks into a bathroom stall, he chooses the handicapped stall because I am standing at the lone urinal. This particular bathroom setup has always bothered me… two or more stalls and one urinal. It makes no sense whatsoever and I firmly believe to be designed by a woman. A dumb one. I’m mid-pee when he starts, I always do my best to not listen in on other people’s bathroom habits, but sometimes I fail. I feel awful as it seems like an invasion of their privacy and, well, admitting it aloud seems kind of creepy. Sorry, world. Having imbibed a lot of coffee and water today… the other guy finishes before me. It’s this fact, the sudden absence of noise besides my urination, that clues me in to what he does next…

He pulls some toilet paper from the dispenser.

He doesn’t blow his nose, at least I didn’t hear him blow his nose. He wasn’t in there long enough to poop. Hell, I was there first and I wasn’t in the restroom long enough to poop. I’m assuming he peed. I heard him pee, it’s not as if I checked which way his feet were facing when he was taking care of business—that would be creepier than merely listening. Him… peeing… it’s a fair assumption given the short amount of time that has elapsed from his entrance to the restroom, to the sound of peeing, to this odd toilet paper thing. I hear the unmistakable sound of rough, Corporate-issue bathroom tissue. It exfoliates. It’s like fingernails on a chalkboard. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I get the shivers, like prematurely biting into ice cream, and realize that this is the weirdest sense of excitement one can have in a public bathroom.

There is no flush as the guy leaves the stall. Pig. It’s possible that he put the toilet paper in his pocket, maybe for later, but would that require the rubbing… and the scratching? Then more rubbing and scratching? It’s possible he threw it in the toilet, but what did he use it for? Could he have wiped his nose? I guess it’s possible, but wouldn’t you blow your nose… if you were going to wipe it… taking advantage of the privacy offered by a bathroom stall? Maybe it’s just me. This whole thought process is making me uncomfortable… it’s obvious that I need to find something more consuming in my work day.

I’m drying my hands, staring at them while he washes his. I’m still looking down at my hands when he approaches me, uses his wrist to adjust his junk—which is just beyond my focal point—and graduates from pig to cretin. He reaches for the paper towels and I notice his wedding band. I say nothing, he returns the favor, although we do make eye contact. Adjusting your ball sack is commonplace in a men’s restroom. Sometimes it happens right in your line of sight and you can’t really react like you just took shrapnel… you pretend as if you see nothing, even though you’re shrugging off the flank attack by homosexuality.

As I walk out of the restroom, I hold the door for him. It’s a common courtesy, not just chivalry. This particular restroom has two doors… one separating work from a common area and a second that separates the common area from the restroom-proper. As I reach for the second door, reluctant to re-enter work, I stop and rhetorically ask him… “What does your wife think about your uncircumcised penis?” And only then do things become awkward.

[Photo yoinked from the Aloma Urgent Care webpage.]