Finalist: Please Read!
by Timothy Plaehn
I just listened to your message. I'm not an asshole; you have to let me explain. I'm sorry about last night; it's my fault and I'm an idiot, but it's not as bad as you made it out to be. Your father is a nice guy, a bit of a good 'ol boy, but essentially a nice guy. But he totally misunderstood what happened. I tried to open up to him about this decision I made -- this really, really big decision -- only it blew up in my face. I'll explain it to him later, but in this letter I need to explain it to you. From why I ran out of there to ... well, actually that's pretty much it. It's just that in order to explain my disappearance, I probably should start with a confession: Prior to last night, I've only made two important decisions here in my twenties. I made them both last year, after I moved down here and met Caroline. The story of that break-up will go a long way to explaining the first decision I made, but the second one is a little more complex, so I think I'll start there:
I want a urinal in my master bathroom.
It only sounds weird the first few times you hear it. After that it makes perfect sense. My master bathroom in my future house will have both a toilet and a urinal, and above the urinal I want a mirror. Now that's not weird either; it also makes perfect sense. I'm not into watching myself or anything; in fact, I'm rather uncomfortable with my own nudity. But this letter isn't about my hang-ups, it's about my decisions. I want a mirror above the urinal I want in my master bathroom because I want to practice my facial expressions for when I'm taking a leak in public. I can't tell you the number of awful moments I've had at concerts or ballparks or office buildings trying to go to the bathroom. I need to practice my bored looks and my satisfied looks and my really secure looks so I don't send any mixed messages when the huge guy with the skull tattoo starts peeing next to me. And the demeanor is different for each urinal, depending on the time of day, the immediate surroundings -- should I acknowledge the guy next to me? Strike up a conversation? Comment on the duration of his discharge? And -- as I've come to find out -- a lot depends on one's geographic location. I had no idea how chatty Southern guys could be. You might not want to know all of this, but it's important. In order for you to appreciate the enormity of my third big decision, you must understand what came before it.
Your dad's birthday dinner did not go as I had hoped. No kidding, huh? Lying with you in the dark these past few months, kissing your hand and your fingers and that little space in between where your fingers rise from your hands helped lead me to this really big decision. Last night seemed to be the perfect moment to say what I had to say. But I can't read moments very well, I guess, which brings me back to those two other decisions; I arrived at them because I don't grasp things that come rather easily to others. And now that I'm down here, I've got a whole new set of social cues to understand, a whole new set of expectations. Most guys probably don't think twice about public bathrooms. I agonize over them, praying that a stall will be open.
I remember I was in Manuel's last year -- just before I met you as a matter of fact -- and I'm peeing in between these two big dudes, and it is taking me forever to get over the stage fright. There I am, waiting for my body to get in gear, and these two guys are sighing away like they've never been so relaxed before. I start reading all the graffiti in front of us, trying to think about anything other than trying to go. Out of all the hundreds of things written on the wall, I come across evidence of some conscientious soul trying to change the world -- one urinal at a time. He wrote, "APATHY FUCKS EVERYBODY." I'm sure he's right, but some guy came along after him and wrote, "Oh yeah, what's her number?" So I start laughing, and then, fortunately, I start peeing. But just when I'm getting comfortable, of course, the other two guys leave. They're probably thinking something along the lines of "Jeez, it takes the guy two minutes to piss and then he laughs when it finally happens."
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