I've Gotta Pee: a Confession

I really despise this one thing: pissing next to other men.  Why?  Well, there are a lot of reasons, of which I'll freely admit: we all look at each others crotches without really looking, or even meaning to look, much the way a moth might fly directly into a flame and burn himself.  It is an irresistible impulse to see another man's penis in the most flacid pressed-against-the-leg mode, when it has been resting pleasantly for a half morning, and peeks out only to let itself be drained free and clear before getting tucked away with nary a wipe, and you tell me, who wouldn't look? 

Not that I look, men!  Real men sort of square their shoulders against the tiles and jostle and you know what they do, first thing that the warm slice of liquid hits against the porcelain (and sizzles, I swear), they talk.  A lot.  Loudly.  About nothing.  About the most gutturally masculine shit possible, and, if someone prefers to be eloquent at the urinal, they are in monologue mode.  Because, maybe, for some men, talking and acting like a logger going to to a giant redwood with an extra long saw/gun type contraption is how they urinate, but for me: I've gotta coax it out by touching my right rib area very very gently, for just a few moments, and concentrate--IF there are other men there, which is kinda weird, you know, for them.  And office gossip is office gossip after all. 

And being self-conscious about coaxing out the innards of one's bladder doesn't assist one in actually producing.  So.  So, I usually just go to the toilet.  Let them all have it.  But, yesterday, I went into the bathroom twice and did not actually go, mostly because I wouldn't be able to go, and then I'd just be standing there, forever, not going.  You know.  Just standing there with some pissing men, acting like I'm about to go, and knowing, deep down, and with utter clarity, that I will not.

So, okay, I went to whole foods to go to the bathroom.  I went there, walked inside, and all the way to the back of the store, up the stairs, and all the way back to the bathroom, and guess what: it was time to clean the men's bathroom.  Yeah.  Closed.