Luvdoc,
I can’t take my boyfriend anywhere. Why? Because he hates public bathrooms – especially the ones in clubs. What should I do? This is really cutting in to my nightlife. We always have to leave halfway through a band’s set because he needs to use the restroom – and he always needs to use the restroom.
– Girl Interrupted
It’s OK, girl, no one likes public bathrooms – well, maybe with the exception of closeted gay congressmen and shameless glory hole connoisseurs. By and large, however, the best you can hope for from a public restroom is that it be relatively clean and unoccupied. I’m going to throw all you LuvDoc faithful a bone here and say that the men’s room in the basement of the UT Law School fits that bill – well, at least it did back in the day when I needed a peaceful, air-conditioned sanctuary to drop a deuce and catch up on my reading (sorry Law School janitors, I know you normally only have to deal with shit that doesn’t stink – maybe see if they have any opening at the Austonian?). The other end of that scale looks like the last rest stop before the gates of hell. Ever enter a public restroom stall that looks like Leatherface just went berserk with a chainsaw on a pile of bloody meat, semen, snot, and excrement? Ever looked at the wall above the urinal and think that maybe Jackson Pollock painted it with bloody boogers? Ever see a toilet filled to the brim with what appears to be either explosive diarrhea or the leftover contents of a week-old Indian buffet? Here’s the most confounding: When you peer into the bowl and there’s a turd that’s the shape and size of a beer can. You think to yourself: “What in God’s name left this? Surely not the 8 year old at the sink neurotically scrubbing his hands with foam soap?” So maybe not everyone is plagued with lutropublicaphobia, but not everyone has dropped a poo bomb in a Porta-Potty and felt the blue juice splash back up on his testicles. Oops! Looks like someone’s going to need a rape shower! Not to mention there are people who are just plain pee shy. Respek. Not everybody is comfortable urinating in a trough sandwiched between two guys who appear to be the spawn of an unholy union of Mr. Ed and Willie Shoemaker. Remember: Just because you’re wee doesn’t mean your wee has to be. Bottom line, Girl, is that it’s a scary world out there, john-wise. Therefore I recommend you give him a condom catheter and a leg bag combined with a vigorous colonic irrigation just before you hit the club. If you can’t manage that, you might want to get a different boyfriend or go to nicer clubs.
This article appears in November 16 • 2012.
