Kaliko
Posts: 3381
Joined: 9/25/2010 Status: offline
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I was on a university campus earlier this week and counted myself lucky to have found a little-known, out-of-the-way bathroom down a secret hallway in a small corner of the student union. Lucky, because the line in the ladies' room was nuts. It was designated a gender inclusive bathroom. Eh, no big deal. I'm not particularly in favor of it all, but I don't really care enough either way about it to come up with a more reasoned opinion. I used it once, then I used it again, then I went in a third time. (Yes, three times. I have a delicate bladder and the building was loaded with coffee shops.) Anyway, the third time I went in, there was....a man there. Listen, I'm in my mid-40's. I've never had to pee in the same room as a man. (Unless it was for funsies.) And as I said, my gut instinct is that I don't really care for the whole gender inclusive thing. But still, middle-aged comfort zone be damned, I walked in to the stall like a champ and positioned myself appropriately. ...and then nothing happened. I. Couldn't. Go. And I continued to not be able to go until he left the bathroom. Plus...ew, boys are gross. I heard him hawk up a wad of - whatever it is you men hawk up - and spit it...somewhere. I resented the images that entered my head as to where he actually put that. That's all. I don't really have a point. Except to tell a little story about the time I became pee-shy, and to say that, faced with the irreversible marching of time and leaving the comfort of single-sex bathrooms in the past, I just couldn't unclench.
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