The Literary Girlfriend: Embarrassing Public Behavior

“I’ve never seen a guy pee before,” Danielle stated profoundly in front of my friends.

This was the moment I had been dreading.  Despite Danielle’s recent good behavior in public, I had been nervous the entire day that she might do something inappropriate while we were at the football game with Kirk and Linda.  Danielle hadn’t worn suggestive clothes, and she hadn’t over-cursed in front of kids, so she had been doing pretty well so far.  But then she announced that she wanted to watch a bunch of guys urinate into the men’s bathroom trough.  She was serious.  She was going to do it.  And it could be potentially embarrassing.

Luckily, nobody sitting around us in our section seemed to be listening.  The other team was backed up on their own end zone, and the defense had almost scored a safety, so everybody around us was cheering and stomping their feet and yelling so that the quarterback couldn’t call an audible.  This made it tough for us to talk, but nobody could eavesdrop.  I really didn’t want anybody to eavesdrop.

Danielle then turned to me.  “Have you ever seen a woman pee?”

I rubbed my palm against my forehead.  “I’ve heard you a couple times,” I said.  “I wasn’t trying to, I promise.”

Danielle placed her hand on my knee.  “I know I can’t watch you pee because you get stage fright,” she said.  “But I really want to see ten guys pee into a tub.  And we’ve already paid for our tickets.”

“Admission to a football game does not guarantee women entry into the men’s room,” I said.  “Especially you.”

“I can look like a guy,” Danielle said.

Kirk (still sitting to my right) stared, open mouthed.  “I don’t think so.”

Danielle began tying her hair up.  “Give me your cap,” she said to Kirk.

Kirk handed it over, looking to Linda for permission, but Linda was staring at Danielle too.  Danielle then replaced her thick glasses with my dark sunglasses, and put my windbreaker over her college jacket to give her a bulkier, less feminine look.

I glanced at Danielle’s jaw line and neck; both definitely belonged to a hot chick.

“Look down and hunch your shoulders,” I told her.  That was her only hope.  She put her hands into my jacket’s pockets, raised her shoulders, and put her head down.  If nobody paid attention, maybe nobody would notice she wasn’t a man.  But she’d probably need more help.

Linda tapped her finger on her armrest.  “Danielle, if you were in a laundromat, and you had just washed all your clothes, and you realized that there was only one dryer, and it was being used by a strange guy you didn’t know… would you ask the strange guy to share the dryer with you?”

“No,” Danielle said, with a tone of disgust.  “I’d wait until the guy was done.”  Then she turned to me and announced in a loud fake deep voice:

“I need to take a leak.”

I really didn’t want to go through with this, but now Danielle had committed.  Maybe she was (unintentionally) embarrassing me in public, but I had known when we started living in sin that this could happen.  When you start living in sin with a hot chick (simply because she’s hot and willing to live in sin with you), you have to accept most of your partner-in-sin’s faults.  If Danielle wanted to go see a bunch of men urinate into a communal, then I had to back her play.  It was my responsibility as a boyfriend.

“I do too,” I said, even though I got stage fright at communals.

“So do I,” Kirk said.  I didn’t know if he was supporting me as a friend or if he just wanted to see what was about to happen.

“I’ve never seen three men go to the bathroom together,” Linda said.  “What are you going to talk about in there?”

Before we moved, I spotted one other problem.  “Dan!” I shouted, even though I didn’t need to.

Danielle paused.

“You gonna read that in the men’s room?” I asked, pointing to my copy of Sense and Sensibility which she had instinctively grabbed.

Danielle cleared her throat and continued with her fake voice, “This piece of shit?”  Then she gave the book to Linda.

“Men are allowed to read Jane Austen books,” Linda said.

“Not when I’m taking a leak!”

“You probably shouldn’t call any Jane Austen book a piece of shit,” I muttered to Danielle as we got up.

“I took drama in high school,” Danielle said. She attempted a male strut past me in our row.  “I’m staying in character.”

As she squeezed past Kirk (despite Danielle being a man now, Kirk still let her out of our row first), he checked out her tight jeans.  “If that’s a guy, I’m turning…”

“I’ll walk close behind her,” I said.  “You go in front.”  Once Kirk was in place, it was like a Danielle sandwich, but not in a vulgar way.  And that’s how we walked to the men’s room, Kirk in front, Danielle close behind and looking down, and me in the rear (again, not in a vulgar way).

As we entered the bathroom and got in line for the community urinal, there was an intense fecal smell, but Danielle didn’t say anything.  Somebody was working through intestinal issues in one of the toilets, and it offended at least two senses.  All we could see were the backs of a line of guys hunching with their hands in front of them.  Men in front of us filled in the gaps as they finished relieving themselves.  Kirk whistled as he strolled to a gap but stopped when he got a couple dirty looks from other guys.  That was a good play on Kirk’s part, distracting other men who might notice Danielle.

A few seconds later, another hole in the line opened up, and Danielle took her place, two spaces from the left end of the trough line.  She hunched her shoulders and pretended to play with her zipper.  I really hoped she didn’t stay there long.  I really hoped she would take a quick peek, glance both directions, get the visual she wanted (whatever it was), and leave before anybody noticed.  Most guys are aware of the presence of others urinating around them, but they don’t want to make eye contact or look like they’re trying to make eye contact.

Danielle was lingering.  A hole opened up a couple spaces to her right.  I hesitated.  A guy behind me cleared his throat.  I knew I wasn’t going to do anything functional right then, but I had to go through the motions, so I took the spot.  I thought about fake sneezing and leaving the line to wash my hands.  But I didn’t have to.

Danielle did the unexpected.  She screamed.  It was quick.  It was shrill and high-pitched.  And even worse, it obviously came from a woman.  Every guy in the men’s room knew there was a woman in the pee line at the trough.

*****

To be continued in… The Literary Girlfriend: Interesting.

To read “The Literary Girlfriend” from the beginning, start here.