A link from Craigslist.
(I bolded the couple of lines that had me rollin')
When it comes to peeing, its great to be a male. Ladies (and fellows with a micro-penis) purse their lips at men’s blithe attitude toward convenience when it comes to answering nature’s call. We’re so crass, rude, disgusting. Right.
You’re just fucking envious. And well you should be. It is indescribably wondrous portaging a permanently attached watering hose. Witness “Man, Peeing in Garden”, the epitome of casualness. Few, if any, locations are off-limits when the urge is felt: parking garage, deck, the sink...simply too many nouns to list. Still, while decorum is abused, discretion is not--more on this point in a moment.
Oh sure, many a woman has pee’d outside of the pot, though strictly as a matter of urgency and with much reluctance and with great angst. There is no female example of ‘whipping it out.’ In fact, yours is a complete show. You fret about the location, the preparation, the sundries, minimizing dribble…christ almighty… it’s a fifteen minute ordeal. Men can sort of relate to your dilemma, like when we need to poop and there’s no bathroom in sight.
Anyway, I pee in the sink. I’ve been peeing into bathroom sinks for years. Convenience is my primary reason. But there are many very good reasons to pee in a sink. A few among them…
I can multitask, which is important to me: both my hands are free to brush teeth, comb hair, apply hygiene products, etc. I’ve never done and empirical study, but I am certain in my gut that cumulative hours are saved annually by peeing in the sink.
It’s environmentally conscientious. I conserve water when I pee in the sink. As I wash my hands or rinse my toothbrush, my pee is carried through the p-trap down into the sanitary line. Toilet, sink—as George Castanza explained, “It's all pipes!”
It’s the ‘green’ thing to do. By peeing on dried toothpaste, solidified lungers, loose hair, and other lingering yuckiness stuck inside the sink, I save still more water and reduce phosphates and other nasty chemicals that might otherwise have been used to clean the sink.
It’s considerate. Regardless whether my girlie is sleeping, watching television, reading in silence, I do not disturb her with a cacophonous serenade of “man-peeing-into-toilet-then-flushing”. Peeing into a sink is very quiet.
It’s clean. There is no toilet water splash nor urine splatter on walls, seat or in the crannies of the commode. Here I bandy the duel argument of ‘less work’ (by not scrubbing said surfaces after each use) and, consequently, ‘more green’ (requires less use of environmentally harmful cleaning chemicals). Pee is, for the most part, sterile when it hits the sink, so no need to use expensive disinfectant. Thus I submit another good, albeit tenuous, reason I pee in the sink: it saves money.
It builds “relationship equity”. The seat is always down, which appears to my girlie as sublimely considerate and one those ‘little things’ I do for her. This manifests, somehow, in better sex.
It’s hygienic. After my stream has diminished to a trickle, I splash a handful or two of water on my dick, thus washing it. I have a clean dick and I put my dick up against the dick of any ‘traditional’ toilet user for some quantitative dick evaluation; eg.: stiff test, taste test. Rub my dick against glass and it squeaks.
I can think of violently few disadvantages to peeing in a sink. Off the top of my head:
- peeing into a sink after eating asparagus is very unpleasant;
- fishing a contact lens out of the sink while ‘multitasking’ is disturbing; and,
- reflexive tumescence may result from the splash of overly cold or hot water, which can have messy consequences.
I confess that a lifetime of casually whipping it out and lettin’ go when and wherever has caused my ‘Emergency Pee Shut Off’ muscle—assuming it ever existed—to atrophy. Richard Pryor was correct that a man cannot cut off his stream ‘just like that’.
I am aware that this technique d'avant garde might offend the eyeballs of an accidental witness, so I always exercise discretion when I pee in the sink. That said, peeing in the sink is so routine for me that I am complacent, and I never thought up a contingency plan should someone walk in on me.
Just this morning my girlie busted me peeing in the sink, rather (as I now understand), ‘her’ sink. She fucking had a cow and slapped my dick…hard …like it was a big hairy fucking spider on the countertop.
Thus I know from experience that getting caught peeing in the sink does not garner even the tiniest, wee little bit of appreciation of or for any of those benefits I mentioned above. Therefore, heed this exhortation: make damn site sure no one will walk in as you pee in the sink.
So there I am this morning, brushing my teeth in front of the mirror and quietly contemplating my day while a night’s worth of pee drained out of my unlimbered dick laying in the sink. My girlie sneaked up behind me topless as a playful, sexy morning surprise, and so intended, she was oblivious to my present commitment. She might as well have tossed a glass of ice water on my back ‘cause with the sudden and unexpected feeling of her hands around my midriff, I reflexively jerked up and away from the sink. My flaccid dick tossed about mid-stream until I could completely close down the relief valve. I was untethered for no more than.. what.. two seconds, but it seemed like I pee’d on fucking everything, including her jewelry box and her basket of stretchy hair things, both of which she was real unhappy about upon discovery. Miraculously, I missed her. She was incredulous. I sensed a radar-lock on my groin area and my hand moved instinctively to my protect my dick—but I was too slow. With the speed of a fucking praying mantis, she lashed at my dick and nailed it good. I hollered “what the fuck”, spewing frothy toothpaste on her, which only added to the indignity and intensified her fury. It was a fucking show this morning in our, rather, her bathroom.
I didn’t learn any lessons this morning (except maybe to lock the bathroom door). I did learn that my girlie is irrational and uptight about this particular issue. Frankly, fuck if I know what to do or what to say to her come this evening. I’m going to go to the restroom and take a good long look at myself in the mirror—mostly because I’ll be peeing in the sink, but also to steel my nerve and strategize for tonite.
