Shy Johnny

  When I got to go and I want to go alone. Lets just say, it doesn't always work out the way I want.

 

I have a shy Johnny. I call it Johnny because it's no Johnson. Whenever I go take leak I have to time it. Before entering the restroom, I have to look over my shoulder. Like I'm being followed by the urinal police. I have to give Johnny a little pep talk. Okay an average pep talk. Okay, maybe I'm stretching a bit.  I'm like the pitching coach on the mound and Johnny is the relief pitcher. Okay the count is two balls and no strikes. You got this! You got a one minute window. Now get busy! No one is coming in. No one is looking at you junior. Besides you're walled up at the thighs with porcelain. 

Then it happens, someone walks in and he stands right next to me. It's not like he didn't have any other options. He did. There was at least four other available urinals. Right next to me and the shy guy. Now the shy guy becomes the dry guy. It's not like he going to break the ice. Heck, he can hardly break the urinal ice. There I am focusing on a speck on the wall, eye level, right in front of me. Engaging in a silent conversation with Johnny. Come on, it's just some guy who obviously has confidence and a big bat. He's having no problem. You can plainly hear that. It's not like you have talk to him. Hello sir. Yes, you say Sir, because you got to respect a guy who can stand tall and let it flow. What would say anyway? You'd never say, "How's it hanging?" unless of course, you wanted to find out. 

Some guys want to see how far away they can get from urinal and still make it in. Working on their arc, like practising free throws on the basketball court. So it's not hard  to see how it is hanging. Heck, Some guys are dribbling on their way up to the urinal. Some guys clear their throats at the precise time the flow starts, so you don't hear the initial lack lustre surge. 

Sometimes, I have resort to the stall because of urinal overcrowding. I stand there and flush just for encouragement but you got to time that too. One flush is acceptable. Continuously flushing, brings up red flags. Then the dialog continues come on Johnny beat the flush. You can do it.  Back to my urinal Johnny.....

I am now looking down in disgust. I think, awe zip it. I really think f it but the sound of zipper drowns it out. Now I have two choices.  Walk to the stall and let the guy know that yup, I'm a freak, or wash up so he can see that I'm a clean freak. I walk out the conversation continues. Really, I can't believe you. It's just a natural bodily function.  Like a dog getting caught doing a bad thing. My Johnny just hangs there like a tail between my legs. This is why I never shop. Its usually one of two things. Literally. It's like I'm the bathroom inspector everywhere I go. And everywhere I go, I have to go. And some places I really don't want to go.

I'm so glad it doesn't cost a quarter to spend a penny. I'd have keep a roll in my pocket at all times. I don't need that kind of attention.

To shrink or not to shrink

 I don't like talking about my crazy shit stuff. I've spent the better half of sixty years hiding, fearing and shaming. Gee, that sounds like a new Journey song. Na na na na na na na. Anyway and yes I know, you should never start a sentence with anyway but I'm doing it, anyway. Hey! this is all about comedy, errors are expected. Sue me! Anyway (there, I did it) I went to see a therapist for a couple reasons. One, to debunk my then wife's' diagnosis. To prove that I wasn't a passive aggressive ass-hole.   Moron? Maybe.  But I'm not an oxymoron, moron. I mean, can you be passive and aggressive at the same time? The second reason was obvious, to rearrange the therapists office, starting with her unused coasters. They were definitely placed haphazardly. Then it happened. She started asking questions. Imagine that, a social worker asking questions. I thought I was there as interior designer not a client. Question one. Why did your wife call you passive aggressive? At that I stood up, passively walked over and gently fixed the picture that was noticeably slanted. I answered,  I don't know! she's the one who needs a therapist! Making sure my tone was neither passive nor aggressive.  I sat down and didn't realize that while I was answering the question, I was aggressively fixing the throw pillows.  In my mind I was thinking. What kind of therapist is she? Look at her desk! Books and papers everywhere! I thought I was messed up. If this is a reflection of how good she is well... She interrupted mental meltdown. Then she said the following ( I had two options. One, move the furniture or two, move my ass out the door) She continued, I find that most people who are passive aggressive are neither passive nor aggressive. I tried not look surprised. Really? Was the only audible sound I could muster. My inside smart ass voice barked out. Sounds familiar. My finely tuned smart ass mind thought, like I didn't know that. Hello! Then she added something. Yes, most people are just hiding something. That phrase caused my back hair to rise up and yell "WTF"

Me hide? But I didn't respond. Me hide was all in my head. So was me not hiding. All in my head. Oh, I was hiding.  In fact, I've been hiding forever but that was another story (I'll leave that for future blogs)and I wasn't going to get into it at this session. I left the office out of sorts. The office was sorted and even though I went out,  I wasn't out. I could never disclose what was really going on in my mind. Her office wasn't big enough for the changes I would have made. 

What did I learn?

            Relationships are two way street, sooner or later someone has to be the frog

I guess she stayed on the sidewalk, while I dodged traffic.  I was dodging more than traffic. Let's just say that this frog needed to get real and get his legs before he lost them under a semi. It was either going to be splat or I was going to have to jump into  the first orange convertible VW bug, that just happened to be driving by. Luckily, I didn't have to wait too long. I jumped into that bug. It's in my driveway.  Driven by the best friend a guy could ask for, my partner John. Were are just two frogs playing in traffic, going where the road leads us.  Life is good. Gribit!

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