Katherine Hayton | Bathroom envy
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27 Jun / Bathroom envy

Last night, I was staying at a hotel in the suburbs.

It was nothing special, I can’t even remember the name. Something like a Travelodge, without actually being one.

My room was so basic that it was just a bedroom. To access the bathroom facilities I had to leave my room, locking the door tightly behind me because it was that sort of place, then made my way down the concrete path to the bathroom.

It was the sort of place that spiders look to congregate in, then abandon, leaving behind only their webs as evidence they were ever there. Proving that spiders have higher standards than I do.

There were wads of sodden paper towelettes across the floor. In fact, there was more paper on the floor than there was in the paper holders. One was completely empty, and the other was down to the last couple of sheets.

Inside the toilet cubicle it was an even worse mess. Flushing is a fine addition to the toilets of our modern day. This miraculous advance was something previous users of the toilet cubicle were unimpressed by, to the point they had neglected to use it altogether.

I was staring at the resultant mess in distaste when I suddenly realised that the reason this bathroom was in such a state was because it was the men’s bathroom.

I experienced a mild flood of relief, followed by a mild flood of dismay. This was both better and worse than not feeling anything at all.

The dismay was caused by me looking down at myself and remembering that I now had a penis. I remembered this when I looked down because it was looking back up at me.

I couldn’t remember why I’d ever wanted a penis, or if I was transitioning into or out of manhood, but I knew that its presence meant I wasn’t getting out of that bathroom.

The really odd thing was that even though I’d just remembered something so disturbing to my natural view of myself, I didn’t even wake up. Nor did I go to the toilet.

That last one I’m grateful for. Imagine the mess otherwise.

Instead, I went back to my hotel room without a bathroom and waited for an appointment that didn’t happen because a car crashed into the side of the hotel and I had to run back home before the police arrived and found out that I’d been waiting there.

I’m still not clear on the hows and the whys. Especially the why I was naked.

When I eventually did wake up I checked and found that I definitely don’t have a penis. I kind of miss it though. I didn’t even get the chance to waggle it about or insert it into anything.

By Katherine Hayton in Katherine Hayton's Blog

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