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 Man In The CanPosted 01.13.2006 by The Big Wiper (2244)
Old joke. How do you tell little boy sardines from little girl sardines? Look and see which can they come out of.
I was reminded of that joke way back in graduate school at the pinnacle of the disco craze when a classmate of mine named Sherry accompanied me to go dancing at a gay bar. She came up to me after class one day and said approximately the following right to my face: "I know you're gay, and I hear gay guys are great dancers. I also know there are a couple of gay discos in town, but I'm afraid to go to such places by myself. Would you take me?" Sherry and I had become pretty good friends in summer school when we'd worked together on a lab project, so I said yes. I judged her to have a high threshold of tolerance when it came to matters that might shock, since she was always joking about pooping and other bathroom topics. Turns out she was the only girl in a family of boys and had grown up surrounded by typical male bathroom shenanigans and with a substantial lack of privacy. It was not at all unusual for her to inform me during school hours that she "had to take a crap -- be right back," or similar Shameless sentiments. I picked Sherry up late -- most discos don't get started until after ten. We walked in and started doing the Hustle and other Travolta-inspired dances. She seemed to take being surrounded by same-sex couples in stride, and we were having a good time. I bought her several beers as the evening wore on. Eventually those beers took their toll on her bladder; and, in addition, she informed me in no uncertain terms that she had to do something more than recycle her beer. "Where's the can?" she asked me. I pointed out a short corridor where she would find two single-user bathrooms. One had the universal symbol for males on it, and the other the symbol for females. I assumed she would take care of business and return without incident. But I had another thought coming. She was back within half a minute, looking pale and frightened. Anyone who's been around women when they have to go the bathroom knows that half a minute is not nearly enough time for them to do #1, much less #2. "What's wrong?" I said. I could read something akin to shock on her face. We retreated to a corner table and she explained. "When I got to the ladies' room, a man was just coming out of the door!" I didn't see the big deal. Only one person at a time could use either facility, and both doors had locks. Inside each was a single toilet and a washbasin -- there were no urinals. Sometimes both bathrooms were each in use at the same time by men -- I had often wondered why the management had bothered to distinguish between the genders on the doors since mostly men ended up using both of them on any given evening. What was wrong, I thought, with putting up both symbols for both doors? Or no symbols at all? Just the word: restroom. I pointed out to Sherry that indeed only one person at a time could use either one. But she still insisted that she was shocked to see a man coming out of the so-called ladies room, and she wasn't about to use the so-called men's room, either. I also asked her how she could be bothered by that and not by sharing a bathroom with all of her brothers all those years. She readily admitted that it was not at all unusual for her to be sitting on the toilet doing #2 while at least one of her brothers was around, and vice-versa. I'll cut to the chase here and tell you that we cut the evening short there -- she said that she couldn't hold it forever. We went back to my apartment, where she high-tailed it into my bathroom to finally obtain the relief she refused to claim at the disco. Her behavior that night appeared more and more curious to me a few months later after I introduced her to my brother and they started dating. I'd left graduate school by then, and my brother and I were sharing an apartment in a singles' complex. Sherry was always around, and her Shamelessness continued. Once she cracked the bathroom door and shouted out to the both of us, "I've just taken a crap and there's no toilet paper in here, guys! Get me some, please!" I remember my brother immediately coming to her rescue and a lot of giggling emanating from the bathroom -- behind closed doors, of course. So it seems that even the most Shameless among us may prefer the traditional separation of bathroom facilities when tinkle or grunt comes to shove. I wonder if Sherry has changed her mind by now about seeing a member of the opposite gender coming out of a single-user facility that both sexes regularly use. Such facilities have now become commonplace and never caused me a moment's concern when they weren't. Leave it to a gay disco to be cutting edge in this regard. Post new comment
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