Out From Under

Bathrooms, washrooms, toilets … they’re pretty utilitarian places. They have a primary function (excretion),  a secondary function (hygiene) and a few tertiary illicit ones (sex, drugs, and sundry god-knows-what’s, limited only by the creativity of humankind’s various depravities).

And once in a while they even extend to humour:

(No idea where this is, nor who took the picture.)

The women (young and attractive, every one) are as focussed on the men’s equipment as any straight man could hope them to be. There’s only one thing they’re interested in, all feminine eyes are pointed south.

The women, meantime, balance just the right amount of self-respect with humour. You get the impression they like men, but they just don’t take them all that seriously. Except perhaps missy number six, she of the belly top and the look of awe … and that mouth, which, were it some 12 inches lower, would be causing more than a little stirring in the depths of the straight male.

Take a gander at woman number one at the far end, she with the opera glasses, peering at something one assumes to be very, very small. Who would stand in front of her? Or number three of the black dress, who looks to be totally underwhelmed? She’s seen her share, and THAT, my friend, is nothing to write home about. The woman with the tape measure — is she impressed, or is that a challenge?

It would be an interesting study, to see how much traffic each woman gets. Do men go for the admiring ones? Or are they just a distraction to the task at hand, and is it the dismissive ones who see more piddling? (And what of the gay men? No entertainment for them — besides, of course, watching the straight men avoid women 1, 3, and 5?)

Strikes me that his bathroom provides another function to this gnerally utilitarian space: Man-filter. Think about it! You straight women looking for a man? If you could just peek into this men’s room, you’d have a sound indicator of the quality of your potential mate.

The man who pauses in the door, laughs, and then strides right over to do his business? That’s the man you want: humour, doesn’t take himself too seriously, confidence.

The fellow who is offended? He’s the high-maintenance sort who requires steady adulation of his boy bits to be assured of his manliness. Yawn. He’s also humour-impaired, a serious relationship handicap. (Unless, that is, you’re finding this whole idea offensive, in which case, he’s your man.)

And the fellow who doesn’t even register that there are women in there at all? Gay. Nice company for dinner, but you wouldn’t be taking him home for dessert.

See? Tons of potential here. Huh. Wonder where this place is, anyway?

This entry was posted on Monday, March 24th, 2008 at 5:59 am and is filed under Ilona's Take. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.