I like to believe that no matter how well you know your spouse, there are always small things that stay behind closed doors.
I’m not talking keeping secrets, or hiding ones pasts.
No, what I’m talking about are things that happen literally – behind closed doors.
Namely, bathroom closed doors.
Now, if you know me IRL (the cool kid lingo for in real life) you know that I’m fairly open about my bathroom closed doors activities. Actually, if you read my About Me section you should figure at least this much. You see, when you have to have a colonoscopy, all bedside manner between spouses goes out the door. I mean, you have to let a perfect stranger put a finger, then a TUBE up your private back door…so let’s be realistic people, you let a lot of private stuff slide after this. I’ve heard the same is relatively true for those that have had the joy of having a BM (even more cool kid lingo…I’ll give you a hint. This one starts with a Bow and ends with an Ent) during childbirth.
So when I started having BM problems at 22, my fiance (now the Mr. Fay of my life) was the one around to deal with my midnight trips to the drugstore for enemas and suppository laxatives. He took it like a champ. Never once did he make a gross face at me when I was talking about completely disgusting things. He was fortunate enough that my Mum was around the first time there was blood, for the first gastro appointment, and was the one taking me to my actual colonoscopy. Although, the husband did take part in the second and third gastro visits, and even sat in the room (during the discussion part, not the exam!) with me and the doctor to hear all the icky details of my messed up waste facility. They were both awesome during that rough time of my life. To make up for it, I constantly give my husband updates of my GI tract. Usually on a day-by-day basis. Let me tell you, he proves every day that he can handle the good, the bad and the gross – and thus, I shall keep him around.forever.
You would think that since my mental doors are so WIDE, WIDE OPEN, that this would be a two way street.
I recently learned something about myself.
There are still doors I wish were left closed.
If you’re a woman that is pretty much living with the closed door policy on these subjects, then you probably shouldn’t continue.
I warned you.
Don’t ruin your life like I ruined mine with a very small realization.
You’re still here? Okay then…
Did you know that sometimes men SIT DOWN to pee? I’m having a mental overload on this one. I was very happy in my fictional world, where men stood to pee, and sat to have the BMs. This was the world I was happy with. There was a line that was drawn in the sand for men, and it was STANDING to pee and SITTING to not pee.
My husband recently informed me of this fact. Apparently, if a man needs to go to the restroom for both purposes, he might just take the opportunity to do both in a sitting position. Who knows if all men do this, but by my current tally, I have found more men who do practice this method than those that don’t. And I had no idea! *blissfully unaware*
Now, are you wondering why this bothers me so much?
I draw a blank.
But my responses were along the lines of “WHAT? So do you have to like, stuff you “stuff” down there so that you can make this happen?”…There were actually quite a few other comical responses that I made – none of which I think should be posted on my public blog, because they might just be a little bit graphic.
I’m not exactly sure why this specific epiphany bothers me as much as it does. I think it has to do with some policy I have about things “hanging” in the toilet. Things should not hang in there. The mental pictures I’m drawing are just wrong.
I can’t get over this new piece of information hanging out in my brain. I think I might try to forget it, honestly.
It is perfectly okay for me to talk openly about my colon, but I did NOT want to know about men who SIT TO PEE!
Oh, and in case you are wondering, this post is a direct result of my Formspring page. I give you free reign to figure out how that one came up on my Formspring.
P.S. I just ate the most wonderfully yummy stewed cabbage. I thought you should know.