It’s been seven days and fifty minutes since I last had some peace…in the washroom. It’s exactly the same amount of time that my girlfriend has been living with me. Uncanny right? But the girl seems to have fixed a GPS on my ass! Every time I feel that there’s the slightest chance of some action, there she is banging impatiently on the door; insisting that she needs to go. Right now. I mean, seriously? She had the whole damn house to herself the entire day, but right now, a few minutes shy of midnight, when I finally tip-toe in, she wants to go?
I knew that people said sharing space was going to be difficult. I just didn’t realize it could be this bad! A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, right? Try explaining that to the source of the nasal voice finding its way through the slight cracks around the door frame. The clock could be swaying it’s arms any time of the day, but it’s like deja vu. The same thing over and over again. No peace. No privacy. Hell, no action even! At the rate at which things were going, I was in for a shitty ride. Pun intended.
And you know what the worst part about all this is? I had always prided myself on being a two-minute man. Just like Maggi noodles. (No man, not in that department! Where’s your mind at?! I am trying to be really discreet about this problem here. Don’t make me spell it out!) But this woman who had promised to put me at the top of her priorities couldn’t even give me minimum time on the “hot seat”! I thought ours was an MFEO kinda love. But I don’t know man. Lately things seem to be “stuck”.
The other day I walked into an elevator right after one of these episodes. I was feeling disgruntled and uncomfortable. By the time the doors opened ten floors later, everyone in the elevator felt my pain with me. I swear I could see a tear or two in some eyes. These strangers could sympathize with me, but not the love of my life. No, she had very set schedules apparently that unfortunately clashed with mine. And since I was a gentleman, it always had to be “Ladies first”. Damn it!
My recent discomfort has brought back some fond childhood memories…though I’m not looking at it quite as fondly at the moment. When we were kids, still too young to understand the fine nuances of what was polite to do in public (and what not), we would hold competitions to see who could toot the loudest. I have spent many an evening wearing my badge of honor in pride. I was the best of them all. No one even came close. But now that I do know all about society and it’s expectations, I wish I had not been the reigning champion. It’s kinda like riding a bike or swimming. Once you know how to do it, there’s no way of forgetting it.
While I go through the most stressful phase of my adult existence, the love of my life remains clueless. Despite several anti-therapeutic sessions with my buddies, I have been unable to broach the topic with her. After all it’s not the easiest subject to talk about, no matter what they say about it being the most natural thing that comes to one. Needless to say that neither of the two most important rooms in my house has seen any action lately. I just can’t bring myself to rise to the occasion. Not when I am under such tremendous pressure. So yeah, things have not been looking so good for us.
Did I mention that I own a decent little perfume boutique tucked in the most happening corner of the Promenade? Yes, I do. And for once I am glad that there are plenty of those freeloaders in the world who come in to window shop. The constant spritzing of floral fragrances is a neat cover for anything noxious that I might emit. Given my situation, I couldn’t have been happier with my career choice. I might be in a tight spot but everything smelt peachy clean. My secret was safely hidden under notes of musk and lavender.
As the hours ticked life away I could not see any light at the end of this tunnel. Our relationship looked doomed from the start. I couldn’t deal with this kinda shit. (Sorry!) I needed an outlet…and some time to use it! It was the most basic aspect of existence but I had underestimated its importance all my life. No longer, I silently promised myself. I had truly learnt my lesson. Now I watched all the adverts on relieving constipation as if it was the Word of God. I followed the instructions to the dot. I added so much fibre to my diet that a little more and I could proudly enroll as a member of the bovine family. I monitored my bowel movements like a young expecting mother kept track of her baby. Every little spasm counted.
It was after twenty five days of pure torture that finally the day of Salvation appeared in sight. I had been living in sin. Constantly defiling the temple that housed my Spirit. I was in pain and I had finally realized that a confession was long overdue. So that day when I entered the washroom, I was a changed man. I was a man on a mission and would not take no for an answer. The inevitable whining and banging on the door started right after I hit 0:45 on the timer. But this time, things were going to be different. I unfurled the tightly rolled magazine that I had stashed a lifetime ago in a plastic packet in the tank. With Steppenwolf roaring lustily in my ears that I was “Born to be Wild”, I settled down to enjoy the adventure.
Ten minutes later, I emerged a butterfly from behind the door. I could see her sitting by the couch, simmering on low heat but there was a hop to my step as I made my way to bed. I had wiped my slate clean of all the mistakes I made these past few days. I had been in purgatory and suffered the fires of hell. I had been cleansed and purified. Life had meaning and colours again. I turned back once to give her a seductive smile and had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen in surprise. It had been a long time since we had connected, what with the constant threat of an uncontrolled toot making its way past clenched muscles looming over my head….But let the past remain in the past.
I am very pleased to say that once I dug in my feet and laid down some ground rules, things improved drastically…. It might also have helped matters that I had spoken to a contractor and started work on a second washroom in the house.