Exactly When Does a Gal Get to Pee in Peace?
Experiencing a tug-a-war between my needs and survival — while wishing a man would morph into a bear!
After biking 35 miles, I have a strong, impending urge to pee — and that’s good because it means I’m not dehydrated despite the raging 95+ degree temperatures.
As I roll up to a restroom with actual running water, the only one along my route, I finally feel a sense of sweet relief. Unlike those highly competitive, Tour De France guys, peeing in my kit is not something I’m comfortable doing.
However, there’s a potential problem. A large man is glaring in my direction from a bench just adjacent to the women’s restroom. I meet his eyes with a casual gaze, sizing up how safe I feel.
This is a dance woman often do when they are alone with a strange man in the vicinity.
The thoughts swirling around in my head go something like this:
Will I be able to fend him off if he attacks me with my shorts down while using the toilet?
Do I want to take this risk right now when all I want to do is use the restroom?
My post-childbirth bladder is pitching a little, fucking fit at this point, but I feel a need to analyze the situation like Einstein contemplating the inner workings of the universe.
