Late one summer evening, I along with a dozen other people, was at my friend Jennifer’s house for her 40th birthday party. It a low-key affair and all of us were good friends, except for a few people who we’ve met on other occasions over the years.
After several glasses of white wine I excused myself to go to the bathroom. “Gotta break the seal,” I announced to the entire kitchen. When I stepped into the bathroom and unzipped my pants, I saw it. It, being six droplets of pee and a long black pubic hair on the toilet seat.
As my stream hit the water, I thought, I’m not cleaning that up! I don’t care who did it. I know it wasn’t me, so I’m not cleaning it up. I don’t even like to clean my own bathroom, much less someone else’s.
That’s when a great debate started in my head, Who’s all here? Who will come in here next? Probably a girl and no doubt she will be pissed and automatically blame me for the infraction!
When I’m at a restaurant or bar and a person is waiting to use the stall after me, all I do is flip up the toilet seat if there’s pee on it. That way the person waiting to use the stall thinks, Well it wasn’t him. The toilet seat was up when I walked in. I laugh to myself and whisper, “You’re stuck cleaning it buddy,” as I start washing my hands.
But this time, I was at a friend’s house and I just know someone will undoubtedly accuse me of back-splashing and order me into the bathroom to go clean it up. What was I supposed to say? “No! That wasn’t me! That was there when I walked in. That’s why I flipped up the toilet seat!”
So there I was, after much debate with myself, cleaning off someone else’s piss with a mashed up wad of toilet paper. “Damn you girls! You don’t know how lucky you are to have a guy friend like me,” I muttered to myself.
After I flushed the toilet and was running my hands under the water to get someone else’s pee germs off of them, I realized that there wasn’t any soap, much less a clean towel.
I bent down and looked in the cabinet underneath the sink, but no luck there. I noticed a bar of soap in the shower, but it also had a very short, black, pubic hair stuck in it. That’s when I realized that this soap had probably been all over Jennifer’s body. That’s when I also realized that Jennifer trimmed her kitty.
The thought of using the soap really didn’t bother me too much. Matter of fact, it kind of turned me on as I sat there and stared at the tiny pubic hair, drifting off into a fantasy shower scene of my own for a few seconds.
But then an image flashed into my mind. It was the look of horror on Jennifer’s face when one of the other guests would eventually say, “Jennifer I didn’t see any soap in your bathroom,” and when she came in to replace it, she would realize that I had used her personal-soap because it was covered in water, which was still running down the side of the tub. So I decided that it would be a bad idea to touch the bathtub-soap.
So after checking the cabinet below the sink, I decided to look in the medicine cabinet for some soap. When I swung open the medicine cabinet door, it sounded like someone threw two handfuls of rocks through the window. Out of instinct, I ducked down to the green ceramic tile floor, my heart beating a mile a minute. About a half a second later, I got hit in the head with a little shinny marble.
I scanned the area like a sniper who had just been ambushed and realized that there were dozens of marbles all over the floor. I heard one person laughing and some muffled talking and about six seconds later, the whole room erupted with laughter. Apparently Jennifer had booby-trapped her medicine cabinet so that if anyone looked in there, they were going to get the dose of medicine that she felt they deserved for invading her privacy.
As I walked out of the bathroom, there was no reason to even try to explain the situation. I used my pants to towel off my wet hands. Not only did everyone know I looked in Jennifer’s medicine cabinet, but they also thought I peed my pants.
“Oh my God! I just wanted to embarrass whoever looked in my medicine cabinet. I didn’t mean to make you pee your pants! ” Jennifer cried out in complete shock.
“Got a towel?” I said as I hung my head down.
“No, but I think I got some pink, stretchy, biker shorts that you can wear,” she said.
The next time I think I’ll just leave the pee on the seat.