Fun and frivolity in the men's restroom today.
You see, I went through a radical feminist phase where I refused to use the women's restroom last year. It nearly always embarassed Natalie to see me walk into a men's restroom with a swagger, come out satisfied, holding my beltloops by my thumbs saying "Yup, just doin' m'job." Sometimes, I purposely went into the men's restroom to sabotage The Patriarchy; i'd change my menstrual products and leave bloody pads towards the very top of the garbage can near the sinks, for all frequenters of the men's restroom to see. Sometimes i'd do it to see the reaction of men when i'd go in there. 9 times out of 10 if you are in the restroom and they walk in, they yell and apologize as though THEY are in the wrong place! I liked using the men's restroom. It was fun and very third-wave. Then I just quit because it lost its charm. Yet to this day, if the women's restroom is occupied, being cleaned, or there is a 20 minute long line to go into it, i'll be damned if i'm going to sit there and allow my bulging bladder to suffer when I could just go into the other door that doesn't have a stick figure with a skirt.
So the women's restroom was being cleaned at school and I went into the men's restroom to change my tampon. I'm in the stall stifling hysterical laughter because somehow I find leaving a bloody tampon in a men's restroom more offensive than a leaving them a bloody pad as a present. I also found it funny because today I was wearing no makeup and a big butch leather jacket. So then I change and I get out of the stall, to see a guy clutching his dick at the urinal for dear life shuddering, trying to hide himself, stuttering "O-oh God!"
I laugh and wash my hands, as I have observed most men do not do. Listen, if I had a big fat cock and I had to hold it to use the restroom, I would do humanity a service by washing my hands with soap afterwards. The man turns red and runs for the door, but stops to stare at me. "Aah sorry about that man. The janitor was cleaning the ladies room. I have no shame, yo." I squared my shoulders in the leather jacket. "H-ha! Hahaha! I'm sorry, you startled me. I just didn't know why you were in he- hahahahaha!"
He runs out the door.
God, I don't know why boys have to be so embarassed of their stuff when I do that, it's not like i'm looking or i'm going to hold up a scorecard that says, "2 1/2 stars" on it.
Aaah I wanna be a guy. But I don't want to smell like one. One of the reasons I can't be with men is because of their smell, which is never covered by cologne. I was at my friend's house and she handed me a blanket, which I flung off of me as though it were garlic. I screamed, "What the hell did you just do to me? It smells like man!" She laughed and said "Um, a boy used it three days ago, can you smell him on the blanket?" and I said "Yes! Like a motherfuckin' bloodhound!"
You see, I went through a radical feminist phase where I refused to use the women's restroom last year. It nearly always embarassed Natalie to see me walk into a men's restroom with a swagger, come out satisfied, holding my beltloops by my thumbs saying "Yup, just doin' m'job." Sometimes, I purposely went into the men's restroom to sabotage The Patriarchy; i'd change my menstrual products and leave bloody pads towards the very top of the garbage can near the sinks, for all frequenters of the men's restroom to see. Sometimes i'd do it to see the reaction of men when i'd go in there. 9 times out of 10 if you are in the restroom and they walk in, they yell and apologize as though THEY are in the wrong place! I liked using the men's restroom. It was fun and very third-wave. Then I just quit because it lost its charm. Yet to this day, if the women's restroom is occupied, being cleaned, or there is a 20 minute long line to go into it, i'll be damned if i'm going to sit there and allow my bulging bladder to suffer when I could just go into the other door that doesn't have a stick figure with a skirt.
So the women's restroom was being cleaned at school and I went into the men's restroom to change my tampon. I'm in the stall stifling hysterical laughter because somehow I find leaving a bloody tampon in a men's restroom more offensive than a leaving them a bloody pad as a present. I also found it funny because today I was wearing no makeup and a big butch leather jacket. So then I change and I get out of the stall, to see a guy clutching his dick at the urinal for dear life shuddering, trying to hide himself, stuttering "O-oh God!"
I laugh and wash my hands, as I have observed most men do not do. Listen, if I had a big fat cock and I had to hold it to use the restroom, I would do humanity a service by washing my hands with soap afterwards. The man turns red and runs for the door, but stops to stare at me. "Aah sorry about that man. The janitor was cleaning the ladies room. I have no shame, yo." I squared my shoulders in the leather jacket. "H-ha! Hahaha! I'm sorry, you startled me. I just didn't know why you were in he- hahahahaha!"
He runs out the door.
God, I don't know why boys have to be so embarassed of their stuff when I do that, it's not like i'm looking or i'm going to hold up a scorecard that says, "2 1/2 stars" on it.
Aaah I wanna be a guy. But I don't want to smell like one. One of the reasons I can't be with men is because of their smell, which is never covered by cologne. I was at my friend's house and she handed me a blanket, which I flung off of me as though it were garlic. I screamed, "What the hell did you just do to me? It smells like man!" She laughed and said "Um, a boy used it three days ago, can you smell him on the blanket?" and I said "Yes! Like a motherfuckin' bloodhound!"
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im off to work too