If I Don’t Know You, Please Don’t Talk To Me While We Pee
It’s a well-known “fact” that women never go to the restroom solo. Right? Yeah, right. I’m very happy taking the journey to relieve my bladder — and as almost all my friends can tell you, I pee a lot — alone. But I admit, I do often trek to the bathroom with another girl or two when I’m out at a bar. And when the line is long or the bathroom a singular one, I have no qualms about sharing the space with people I know. What’s a little squatting between friends?
But unless we have decided to enter the bathroom together and I know and love you, I have a request: please don’t talk to me while we pee.
1. It’s weird and unnecessary
Yeah, I did compliment your shoes while we were standing on line. Maybe this sparked a conversation about shopping or the sticky bar floor or world peace. Perhaps we’re already acquaintances or you feel a Bar Bathroom BFF-ness blossoming. But I don’t really want any of these conversations to continue into our separate stalls, where we have to shout to be heard and generally try too hard for a conversation that could wait 30 seconds to continue.
2. Everyone else can hear how weird it is
A public bathroom is (obviously) not a private place. Other people are there. They can hear you telling me about the time your boyfriend cheated on you or how much you hate your boss. Do you really want them hearing that? You never know who might be listening.
3. There’s no good way to end the conversation
Do we stop chatting mid-stream? Do we keep it going all the way to the hand dryers? What if you pee faster than me? Are you going to wait by the sinks to finish your tale? I see no exit strategy here.
4. I want to pee in peace
Give me a few moments to collect my thoughts and pee. ‘Nuff said.
5. Stage fright
I feel like this term is used mostly when discussing (as we all do so, so often) men standing at a urinal. But it exists for girls, too! If you’re talking to me and it’s making me uncomfortable, then I won’t be able to pee. And then I’ll be self-conscious about how I’m not peeing yet and that will just make it worse.
Do I think too much about urination? Possibly. I have a tiny bladder. I was scarred by a horrible bus experience in London, when I was convinced my kidneys were failing because I had to pee so badly. I am probably always prepared for a jellyfish sting (thanks you Friends, for that information). I’ve been through five Mardi Gras weekends and my main concern during each one was the availability of a bathroom at any given time. It’s a marathon, guys. Not a sprint.
But even though I’ve now told you this, that doesn’t mean I want to discuss it over the stall wall.
A | A | A
Of all the breakups I’ve had, the saddest and hardest to get over is the one with my platonic girlfriends.
I will keep looking at them while you go through the checklist of things you need to bring. I will note how I am not on it and feel the cracks under my ribs escalate with every beating pulse.
We’ve come too far to give up who we are
So let’s raise the bar and our cups to the stars
I have never held hands that were equally my own and not, at the exact same time. It is this lack of understanding that makes me want to say thank you.