If you are female, then you are, no doubt, accustomed to going to the restroom in some sort of a stall with walls on either side of you, providing a sense of security and/or privacy. You are, probably, not accustomed to having a penis. We menfolk, much of the time, are not so fortunate.
I have been amazed the few times I’ve wandered onto the sacred ground of the women’s restroom. Women use restrooms that have a couch or couches, flowers and garlands of herbs. Men are lucky to have a dirt hole and a magazine to wipe with. The typical bar restroom for a man consists of a trough-like receptacle (often, filled with steaming ice). There we stand, shoulder to shoulder, without partition and pull out our penises.
Bathroom etiquette would have you keep your eyes directly in front of you. If there is literature on the wall, it is appropriate to indulge in its content. If lacking literature, you are expected to give the blank surface in front of you the exact same attention you would have given a newspaper article about free money. A wandering eye is frowned upon in this place.
Women, you have it easy. While you’re giggling, throwing tissues at each other and taking in a potpourri scented breeze, we are reading over and over again, “BOOMBOX at Lucky Lounge, Every Tuesday Night, 10pm. BOOMBOX at Lucky Lounge, Every Tuesday Night, 10pm,” while peeing in a trough and wondering if the pervert next to us is looking at our penis.
I’d prefer the tissue fight.
