Dear men who wonder and ask, Why do (you) women go to a (public) washroom together? or, Must you (ladies) go to the washrooms together? First of all, every living creature (including plants) and everything else inanimate, knows that women are the most intricate beings to ever exist. Women are very complex, bewildering, abstruse, almost bizzare. Difficult to understand. Infact, impossible to understand. Being complicated is an integral part of our existence. That said, do not attempt to fathom us. You will fail. Miserably. And you will only manage to get yourselves ulcers and a myriad of psychological complications. However, I shall answer the above frequently asked question(s). Chances of you understanding are nil, but here we go nevertheless. Women hate public washrooms. We abhor everything about a claustrophobic room with six (or more) tiny stalls with nowhere to hang our purses, several thousand strains of bacteria lurking everywhere, unflattering fluorescent lighting, and the kind of toilet paper that should be used for exfoliating our dry sking instead of for its intended purpose. A womens public washroom is a place of refuge where brutal honesty takes control and saves females of all ages from one embarrassing moment after another. It is also where we stand in front of the mirror and discuss bad eyebrow waxes, great pedicures, the miracle of push-up bras and you. Yes, we talk about you -our boyfriends, boyfriend wannabes, husbands and soon-to-be-husbands. And even more remarkable yet, is that we manage to hold all these introspective conversations while applying lipstick, smoothing our hair and washing thousands of strains of bacteria off our hands. Behind the door adorned with the little triangular woman (who looks nothing like a woman at all), we reveal secrets, mistakes and regrets over the hum of hand dryers, running water in the sinks and the flushing of the toilets. Not only do we share insecurities, funny stories and make-up tips, but we also embrace each other when one is heartbroken, scared or worried. We wipe away tears with scratchy, transparent toilet paper and offer gentle encouragement to anyone who needs it, even perfect strangers. In short, the public washroom is where we hold our best, shortest therapy sessions without the benefit of a psychiatrist, a couch and a box of lotion tissues. Youre welcome. (even if you didnt quite get it)
Posted on: Fri, 31 Jan 2014 09:43:17 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015