Men and Their Toilets
We are men! Throughout history, we have always needed, in times of difficulty, to retreat to our caves. It so happens that in this modern age, our caves are fully plumbed. The toilet is, for us, the last bastion, the final refuge, the last few square feet of man-space left to us! Somewhere to sit, something to read, something to do, and who gives a damn about the smell? Because that, for us, is happiness. Because we are men.
We are different. We have only one word for soap. We do not own candles. We have never seen anything of any value in a craft shop. We do not own magazines filled with pictures of celebrities with all their clothes on. When we have conversations, we actually take it in turns to talk! But we have not yet reached that level of earth-shattering boredom and inhuman despair that we would have a haircut recreationally. We don't know how to get excited about.. really, really boring things, like ornaments, bath oil, the countryside, vases, small churches. I mean, we do not even know what, what in the name of God's ass is the purpose of potpourri! Looks like breakfast, smells like your auntie! Why do we need that?
So please, in this strange and frightening world, allow us one last place to call our own. This toilet, this blessed pot, this.. fortress of solitude. You girls, you may go to the bathroom in groups of two or more. Yet we do not pass comment. We do not make judgment. That is your choice. But we men will always walk the toilet mile.. alone.
- Steve, from Coupling
We are different. We have only one word for soap. We do not own candles. We have never seen anything of any value in a craft shop. We do not own magazines filled with pictures of celebrities with all their clothes on. When we have conversations, we actually take it in turns to talk! But we have not yet reached that level of earth-shattering boredom and inhuman despair that we would have a haircut recreationally. We don't know how to get excited about.. really, really boring things, like ornaments, bath oil, the countryside, vases, small churches. I mean, we do not even know what, what in the name of God's ass is the purpose of potpourri! Looks like breakfast, smells like your auntie! Why do we need that?
So please, in this strange and frightening world, allow us one last place to call our own. This toilet, this blessed pot, this.. fortress of solitude. You girls, you may go to the bathroom in groups of two or more. Yet we do not pass comment. We do not make judgment. That is your choice. But we men will always walk the toilet mile.. alone.
- Steve, from Coupling
