Lav from New York

The bathroom. Given the sex of its current occupant, its purpose changes. It hovers between the masculine and feminine. Hence The First Lesson of Cohabitation for C and I.

C comes shouting at the bathroom door, while I'm occupying it.
Me: "I'm in the bathroom!" and shut my eyes to drown him out.
C: *somethingsomethingsomething*
Me: "HEY! I'm. On. The. Toilet!"
C: Groan..... (sound of him walking away)

Two minutes later, I'm out and ask him: "What did you want? What were you shouting at the bathroom door for?"
C: "I had a question for you."

A question? A question?!?! Honey, if you're going to interrupt me in the bathroom, there better be a fire right outside that apartment door. I suffer from a predominantly female phenomenon called pee fear. Pee fear is the fear of publicly acknowledging in any way that you must utilize this particular bodily function. There is a second variety of this phobia, pertaining to bathroom activities, but I won't go there. 'Pee fear' is bad enough.

I don't know how the name came about, but once I explain it to others, then come nods of understandings and "Ah, yes - pee fear!". Next, the ensuing aura of vindication that illuminates us all, empowering us in that we do not suffer alone.

For the severely afflicted, we pray that silence and privacy- normally afforded to us in our private bathrooms- will be replicated in public restrooms. We'll linger until the bathroom is empty or, if it’s not possible to wait, we’ll grab the furthest stall from one that is occupied. The handicapped stall is considered prime real estate, as far as lavs go. Shutting the eyes very, very hard is also effective in drowning out noise. Nightclubs are great morale boosters, because it’s always so loud that for one glorious moment, we’re just like everyone else.

Men don’t get this, which can be largely ascribed to the forced openness in male public restrooms. The psychosis was hammered out of their heads early, dating back to pre-kindergarten. This is good. But their ensuing laid-back attitude towards all of this translates itself to the homefront. This is not good.

Nip this in the bud. Teach them. Let them know that once you enter that commode abode and close that door behind you, you do not exist. C is still somewhat befuddled, but he is 95% there. Whether I'm tap-dancing in the tub or counting the tiles in the floor, he knows that the lav becomes my feminine fortress, not to be disturbed. Unless, of course, there is a fire.