Sometimes shyness rears its head in the oddest ways for me. Sure, I was voted Shyest Guy for the 8th grade yearbook and I didn’t really come out of my shell until college and the liberating effects of alcohol brought me out into the open to be able to eventually converse with people while sober.
That opening missive was a roundabout way to segueing my inability to reveal myself after I go #2 at work. What I mean by this is I don’t like to be identified as the one just walking out of the stalls after I make a poopsie. If I’m almost done wiping and someone comes into the bathroom to use the urinal, I will wait until they’re leaving the bathroom before I make my exit from the stall.
It’s not like I have some atomic stink to be embarrassed about. As anyone who has used a public restroom knows, sometimes the bathroom can be an assault on the senses. A lot of guys take pride in their Fecal Ferocity and gladly take credit for a nasal assault that borderlines on being a misdemeanor. Me? Not so much. Same thing with farting; if you hear me do it in public, it’s a mistake (with a few exceptions, some of you who read this blog are in that inner sanctum – you’re welcome).
If someone is occupying the stall next to me and begins to finish up at the same time, I slow down my progress so as not to a) walk out of the stall at the same time or b) announce my presence at the sink as a toilet partner in crime. The other scenario I don’t like to be involved in is when you enter a restroom with the intent of doing #2 and someone at the sink gives you a salutation that includes your name. If there is someone in the other stall, now they know it’s me when I eventually make my way to the toilet and my cover is blown. I like to be anonymous when I’m performing that Highly Underrated Internal Housecleaning chore.
Look, I’m not ashamed of what I do. It’s a bodily function. I read Everyone Poops like the rest of you. It’s just there are some functions I’m not thrilled about announcing. Oddly enough, I don’t have a shy bladder like a lot of guys understandably do. Most men’s rooms don’t have a divider between urinals which never made sense to me. There should be some sanctity and privacy when touching one’s own genitals in a non-sexual manner.
I debated even posting this since I’m cringing at the potential responses.