Adventures in Defecation

I find it interesting that romance and the bathroom never meet, not even in the grosser alleyways of tabloid publications or internet news sites. No-one gives a gift of beautifully-wrapped TP to their husband or wife. Christmas doesn’t bring the sound of new toilets or urinals flushing in heavenly harmony. Valentine’s Day never brings sights of the legendary golden dingleberry picker, nor laxatives all daintily arranged, so that you and your love can feed each other the tasty chocolate treats, then excuse yourself later to make your own chocolates.

No-one ever expresses their love by proclaiming with starry eyes, “Baby, I’m pooping for you.” No man brags to his wife that he loves her so much that his bladder is fit to burst. All I want to know is “Why not”? If you think this is silly, the humans have proclaimed any number of silly things to those that they love. If you think it’s gross, what’s grosser than saying that your heart — an organ that distributes blood throughout your body — beats for someone? A beating heart is a gruesome thing to see. And so many people have already compared really awesome things to feces by using that familiar profanity, the s-word. So if you tell your gf that she’s the s***, then what’s wrong with saying that you’ll love your woman as long as you poop?

This is not a throwaway comparison. Pooping takes a lot of effort. You sweat; you strain; you know the drill. Urination isn’t cheap either, from an energy perspective. I mean, this is raw human effort here, especially if you’ve had to hold it for a while. So it is fair to compare deep emotions with things that require a lot of us. That’s why people say that they’d lose an limb for someone, when they’re really head-over-heels for them. And take a look at that last one. Head over heels? You know the first person to do that had to be in quite a bit of pain.

Now all this is just empty talk unless somebody does something. So who’s going to be the first to put this all into practice? I can see some half-drunk guy wandering over a chick in a country-western bar, saying, “Babe, you’re so hot that I could just poop.” Maybe some foxy chick could be telling her thug, “Whenever I turn the water yellow, I’m thinking of you.”

What is up with people who flush the toilet or the urinal before using it? Now I’m not talking about the times where there are no other ones available. Sometimes when you’re at a sports event, for instance, stalls are at a premium. You can’t afford to find a better one. But no. These people settle in before the urinal and flush it once before using it. Gross! I would just find a different urinal. I don’t even want to think what the people who flush the toilet see before they go, but yet, they do it anyways. That would really ick me out. Sure we’re all pooping where someone else had pooped, or peeing into the same ceramic receptacle, but somehow there’s a world of difference between knowing that fact and being confronted with recent, visual evidence of it. No, rings around the bowl are not the same. Not even urine stains on the wall are sufficiently nasty. Seeing someone else’s by-product there in the bowl, looking up at you is enough to make me find a different place to go. Why isn’t it enough to gross out these people? Do they have no sense of bathroom honor or what?