Being a member of the male species, I am the first to admit that I have no idea what drives the female mind. I used to tell a buddy of mine that if I claimed to have figured out women it would be time to end it all because this would be a sign that I had lost my mind. The things I don't understand are so numerous, I could write a book titled "A Thousand and One Things I Don't Know About Women."
But of all the mystery surrounding their actions, nothing, and I do mean nothing, astonishes me quite as much as their primeval need to go to the bathroom together. I am 51 years old. Not once in my entire life have I looked at another man and said "Fred, I've got to go to the bathroom. Let's go take a potty break." I'd be more likely to join the New York Metropolitan Ballet Troupe than ask another man to join me in the bathroom.
The bathroom is a semi-reverent sanctuary where man and nature exist in harmony; not men and nature mind you, but man and nature. But for women it is another story. I'm thoroughly convinced that if a woman is checking out her purchases at Dillards, alone, and the urge hits, she'll ask the cosmetic counter clerk if she'd like to come go to the bathroom with her. A woman would perish on a deserted island, not from thirst or starvation, but from holding it because no one was there to, I guess, share in this significant moment.
What in the evolutionary chain occurred? Long ago were single bathroom break women picked off by hungry wolves such that now they do these things in groups? Did I miss one of the several hundred Friday the 13th movies where all the women were brutalized while peeing alone? Is there more involved in the process than I am aware, such that assistance from a third party is needed? See, I just don't know.
Maybe there is something else going on in the bathroom I don't know about. Maybe women's bathrooms have a small wine and cheese tasting area in the far corner. Maybe every 100th bathroom goer wins a free massage or a manicure. Maybe they have mirrors that make you look skinny or scales which are pushed back 20 pounds. I would further investigate the matter but being caught snooping around a women's bathroom is not the legacy I wish to leave behind.
I assume when women approach a bathroom which is built suitable only for one that they openly weep as they are forced to stand outside the door. The truth is, I will probably never understand the true meaning of this very important issue.
Not understanding, however, does not mean one cannot capitalize on the situation. I think I'll build a new mega nightclub in southwest Georgia. We won't advertise about having the best dance floor or party bands. We won't advertise drink specials or ladies night. Nope, we'll advertise the largest bathroom in the state. We'll have a women's restroom that is the envy of every other club in the nation. The club will be full of women, which, of course, will ensure that it will be full of men. The women will need to buy drinks so that they have a reason to go to the bathroom. The men will be there buying the women these drinks. I'm sure to be a millionaire in no time flat. I hope to see you there and no, I would not like to join you in a potty break.
Contact columnist T. Gamble at firstname.lastname@example.org.