I’ve been a little absent lately, but as The Beatles said, you get by with a little help from your friends. And so today’s post is written by the one and only Bas who writes at Visting Missouri, giving a man’s opinion on one of the most discussed differences between men and women; the fact that we travel to the loo in packs on a night out when men prefer to roam alone.
Check out some of his posts, and let us know what you think!
I write in a niche. My normal blog is only relevant to Dutch people that go and visit the United States every now and then. Although it is oddly specific, every now and then someone else reads it too. For a spot on Tinkerbelle’s blog I needed a more general approach, though. Something universal, untangled from any cultural perspective. A subject that everybody all over the world can read, understand and then nod their heads in confirmation while having that distinct, dreamy smile on their face. A topic that unifies all that is important in life: girls that go pee.
Speaking of the matter will not only raise awareness for a cause often deemed trivial, it also fits the name of this blog’s hostess seamlessly. The matter in fact baffles both women and men. The mystery why females pee together has kept people talking from the first inn with separate bathrooms to the most luxurious clubs in the world. I will keep them talking and get to their own conclusions, because I aim to direct the few minutes before they actually go. The minutes in which they endlessly discuss the act of peeing.
Girls have a tendency to talk their problems away. The reason men don’t get girls is that they don’t listen, but solve the girl’s problems for her. Instead, giving a girl merely the opportunity to chat away, while thinking that guy nodding is actually listening to her, will make her problems disappear in an instance. In some specific circumstances, this will not work. When a certain problem arises because the sixteen cans of Diet Coke and umbrella-decorated cocktails are reaching their bodily end station, girls go for the known solution. They’ll start to talk the urge away.
‘I think I have to go to the bathroom.’ I think she is actually sure, but merely initiating the conversation, not wanting to rule out possibilities. ‘When was the last time I went?’ Answering this will make no difference whatsoever. ‘I do have to go, but I want to wait until we get home.’ Because when it comes to peeing, there’s no place like your own place. ‘Maybe waiting too long will give me a stomach-ache.’ For a girl, the need to pee is a bodily function in more than just the one way. ‘I will go when we get home, I don’t really have to go anyway.’ I never believe this last part. For me, the urge to go two variables: how full my bladder is and how well I can control that same bladder (funnily enough, alcohol cancels out the two, making me pee every twelve seconds). After she gets home, she will discretely close the door and I will not listen, because due to built-up pressure, the impact must be overwhelming. Writing this, I picture girls hovering over the seat, lifting off a few inches. Then, when she finally comes back out, she will, without a doubt, say those magical words. ‘My stomach really hurts. What did I eat?’