You can file this in the “WAY too much information, Dan!” file. But I feel close enough to both of you to tell you anything and now.. I am about to tell you anything.
As we both know, public restrooms have a unique set of etiquette rules. Both men and women have to navigate that treacherous, and a bit, nasty course all the time. Men have the unique anatomical feature of a directional spout. This feature allows public restroom designers to install two-ish urinals for every toilet. This I refer to as “peeing on the wall.” Nice invention. The problem is that urinals provide little privacy. There are a million unwritten rules about where your eyes need to be while peeing, which urinal you choose when there are more than two, what you are allowed to talk about, etc.
My confession to both of you is that when I address the urinal, I commit myself by unbuckling my belt and working at it from that direction. I know the correct, more manly way, would be to unzip, reach in, do the underwear origami (underwearigami?) maneuver, release The Bishop from his confines (I was going to say “rectory”instead of confines…it is making me laugh really loudly thinking about it, but I don’t think it is appropriate so ignore what’s in these parenthesis), then take care of the business end of why I am there and then do everything in reverse.
That is not what I do. I need to de-buckle myself. There is no good reason for it, other than habit….and fear of the grip of death of a billion little metallic zipper nubs causing unneeded pain to a most sensitive part of my body. The gods know that I may need to use it once again …someday. The other reason is that with my method, I can put things back exactly where I want them using mostly gravity. The more macho way means that it is a crap shoot (?) as to where all the pieces end up. All you have is that small window that you then have to try to squish into place like a snake charmer on his first day on the job.
So to make a very short, long, I was in the restroom at work, doing what I do whenever I have to do it. At some point, I was joined by someone else, while I finished off with a “two shakes of the lamb’s tail.” I continued on with the repositioning and re-buckling. At this point, the much more manly man doing the ever-so-graceful, one-handed reach and yank, looked up at me and said, “What were you doing, masturbating?”
Listen, god’s gift to all things macho; you have broken a whole bunch of commandments just now. The most important of the “Thou shalt not’s” are:
A. Don’t even think of talking while at the urinal. You are not allowed! It is in the manual! “The moose up front should have told you that” (Which movie was that from?)
B. Don’t pay close enough attention to me that you notice whichever personal habits I have chosen to exhibit. For goodness sakes, I have heard guys fart while at the urinal and no one blinks. How I retract, is not your business! You are not permitted to be interested in that.
C. Don’t say the word masturbate in a men’s room….E.V.E.R!
Please don’t hate me!