My Potty Mouth

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I’ve got a list of things I want to write about sometime soon:

* “In Defense of Emily Gilmore,” an essay from that book I told you about

* Things I said incorrectly when I was a kid that my parents never corrected because they thought it was “cute”

* My collection of parenting tips that I’ve learned so far and don’t want to forget

But I think I’m supposed to write about The Bathroom first.

This weekend I read a brief article about proper etiquette in The Powder Room. And then I came across a short series of blog posts about proper etiquette in The Men’s Room.

I don’t think I personally know the one they call Farky, but I’ve known of him for a while now because of guys like this one and this one, and it’s possible we met sometime before, since we went to the same university, just at slightly different times. I was wondering last night if Farky ever blogged about things that he does understand, so I clicked on one of his archive months, and discovered this gem. Apparently, he’s always been writing about things he doesn’t understand, in particularly things in the bathroom: a guy sleeping in the stalls, his “Pee Buddy” with inane small talk, guys talking on their cell phones to females while sitting on the throne.

It’s pretty funny stuff. But it’s intriguing too. For one thing, every time I come out of a public restroom, I have a story to tell Chris, and he says, “You’ve always got a story from the bathroom,” because he NEVER has a story from the bathroom. So it was good to see a male contemplating the social norms of the john. For another, we’ve been talking about parallel universes here on For the Record, and I’m telling you, The Men’s Room and The Ladies’ Room are parallel universes.

I’ll admit that I don’t know too much about The Men’s Room. I’ve been in one in a building that was empty. I’ve watched that episode of The Office; I’ve seen those Seinfelds. I’ve pried info out of Chris. My buddy from my last job told me that men usually keep their eyes straight ahead and say nothing to each other while standing at the urinals, but there are a few small talkers in every office building. I have no trouble believing the one my friend labeled “The Greatest Offender.” I mean the guy would say hello to me if ever the doors on either Room swung open to reveal the other in the “lobby.”

But from what I do know, The Men’s Room and The Ladies’ Room are two very different worlds, intriguing and mysterious to the other team. I don’t think I usually behave like a lot of women do in the restroom. I’m pretty reserved, but I’ve been around long enough to know how The Ladies’ Room works:

Farky noted the phenomenon of a Pee Buddy, someone you don’t know in your office who goes to the bathroom at the same time every day you do. This happens with men and women. The key difference, I think, is that unlike Farky’s PB, most males who find themselves on the same schedule wouldn’t engage in small talk, much less remark on how often they end up in the bathroom at the same time. But the majority of females will start with small talk and move up to boyfriends/children. After about three days, they’ll be bonding over how they have to urinate at the same time every day. They might even speculate on how this happened: “I drink two cups of coffee every morning. The first one at 6:30 and the next when I sit down at my desk.” “I’ve always had a small bladder.” They might even sign their Christmas cards to each other, “See you soon, Your Pee Buddy.”

Another thing is that women like to have PBs, so long as they know them already. Men have observed and wondered at this social oddity for years: “Anyone want to go to freshen up with me?” “I’m going to drop by the restroom before we go to lunch; you want to go too?” I admit that I sometimes participate in this tradition, but I still find it a little strange. I guess there’s something reassuring about heading down the long, dark bathroom corridor in the mall with another woman by your side. And I suppose it takes the embarrassing edge off excusing yourself from a mixed-company dinner table with another lady, “No one will think I have IBS if I go when someone else goes.” But you need to know that this tradition doesn’t just happen in mixed company. It’s an across-the-board norm.

By the way, when women go in together, they come out together. You don’t leave when you’re done with your business. You hang out while the others are finishing up. Usually, you’ll be expected to keep them company by talking while they’re in there, but not always.

When you’re in the restroom with women you know well, don’t expect the conversation to stop just because the two or three or four of you are peeing. It’s not even going to slow down because Susie’s got to change her tampon or Denise had beans for lunch. Susie might pause and remark about how bad her cramps are this month and Denise might mention that we shouldn’t do Mexican for a while, but it won’t derail the conversation.

If you’ve ventured in alone, don’t expect the team of ladies already in there to put the kibosh on their talk just because an outsider has entered. You can learn a lot just by sitting quietly in a stall.

A woman in the bathroom by herself will often find the silence unbearable, apparently, because she will take any phone call that comes along. Not only that, she’ll MAKE a phone call, to her mom, her boyfriend, her boss. It doesn’t matter who. Who cares if the other person can detect the echo of the stall, the tinkle of the pot, and the swoosh of the flush?

If you’ve come in alone and your shoes are recognized, expect to be engaged. Small talk is a Ladies’ Room staple. Sometimes I even brace myself for it.

It’s the worst in this situation: You go in just as someone you kind of know is washing her hands. She’ll say hello to you and there’s a good chance she’ll hang around while you’re in the stall just so you two can catch up. It’s equally awkward when the reverse happens. You’re at the sink and she comes in. She starts the small talk as she enters the stall and is still talking and asking questions as she’s unzipping. When a lull finally hits, you’re not sure what the right move is. Is the conversation over? Are you supposed to wait till she comes out? Do you say, “Have a nice day” or just leave?

Never mind, that’s not THE worst. The worst is when the small talk turns to real talk. What’s the right response when someone you don’t know very well is telling you about how her son just got diagnosed with cancer and is simultaneously ripping a huge one at the same time? I’ve been a (introverted) female for 26 years, who always seems to attract women who want to share their woes, and I still don’t know the answer.

There’s an air in public Ladies’ Rooms of “we’re all in this together.” If you’re in The Powder Room, you’re in the club. You must have a husband who doesn’t help out around the house. You must have a boyfriend who only thinks of himself in bed. You must have two kids who smart off. You must want to know how your body’s going to change after menopause. You must want to admit that you had to “pee like a race horse” when you were pregnant. You must want to talk about how strange urine smells after a cup of coffee. You must want to discuss if there’s really any harm in flushing feminine products.

You must. You’re female and you have to pee.

Since you’re in “the club,” you certainly won’t mind if another member wants to take a dump right beside you. There are six stalls; you’re in the far left one. There are five other open, functioning toilets, yet a stranger enters the bathroom and chooses the one next to you to have her loud, smelly diarrhea explosion. You know it wasn’t a surprise; you could hear the determination in her heels on the tile. Yet, she chose the stall right next to yours. As someone who’s never gone number two in a public restroom, I can’t even begin to understand this. I can understand doin’ the two, but not doin’ it side by side with a stranger if there’s any other option.

Then there’s the phenomenon of choosing the handicapped stall when all others are open and you’re not handicapped or pushing a baby in a stroller. Like everyone, I enjoy the spaciousness of the handicapped stall, but I think there’s a certain level of respect for your fellow womankind that goes into not using it if you don’t have to. I can tell you from experience; it takes a lot of agility to pee in a regular stall that’s inhabited by a travel system stroller and toddler. A lot. (It’s gotta be worse if you’re actually in a wheelchair.)

So I can understand if you don’t want to give it a try. But, ladies, that doesn’t mean you should leave your baby in his stroller or strapped in a shopping cart while you duck into a regular stall! There are no cameras in the Target restroom! I wouldn’t, but I could easily walk out with your cart and your baby and be in the parking lot before you even get your pants up.

I also don’t understand why women can’t just wipe off the seat. If you pee on it, and you will if you insist on “hovering,” just wipe it off. It’s just the right thing to do. And, while I’m at it, if you’re so worried about contracting germs from a toilet seat, why not carry a pack of anti-bacterial wipes in your purse? I learned this trick when I was too pregnant to successfully hover. You wipe down the seat with a anti-bacterial wipe. While it’s still wet, apply a seat cover or a layer of toilet paper. You’ll have less chance of slippage that way. Then follow up with a second seat cover or a second/third layer of toilet paper. You’ll probably get less germs on you that way than you will by having to use the stall walls to balance.

(You should NOT use the anti-bacterial wipe to wipe your rear end. One of you who reads this blog as done that. I’ll leave it to you to testify.)

Most Ladies’ Rooms have some perks. Maybe a couch, table lamps, potpourri, and a general lack of urine on the floor. And, yet, sometimes you sit down only to realize that directly to your left, about 5 inches from your shoulder, is a smear of poo or blood. How does this happen? More importantly, why would you just leave your feces on the wall?

Okay, I know one possible answer is “kids.” That’s another big difference between the parallel universes. The Ladies’ Room is home to women AND children of both sexes. Sometimes you’ll see a mom in there with a twelve-year-old boy. There’s something horribly awkward about peeing in the same room with a youngster whom, you can assume, has already developed a sexual interest in females. Especially females who have already “developed,” unlike their classmates.

But more often, you’ve got a mom who has a full grocery cart with a toddler strapped in it. She can’t take merchandise in the restroom, so if she’s got to go, she’s got to leave the cart and take the baby with her. That puts her in the odd predicament of having to either put the baby on the dirty floor or balance the baby on her knee while she pees and wipes and gets her pants back up. Then there’s the frazzled mom with three kids, one of whom has peed in front of the sink instead of in the toilet. She’s wrestling with all three and cleaning up the mess while her husband waits in a chair outside. Or the poor mom who just needs to pee, but her ADHD five-year-old keeps sliding under the stall door on his belly and saying, “Hey, Mommy, is this how the lock works?” as he throws open the door for all the world to see what’s inside.

It’s in those moments that I really do feel the “club” mentality.

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