WARNING: The following story is not for the faint of heart, squeamish or those of you @ssholes who voted yes on Prop 8. The rest of you dirty birdies, scuzz monkeys and other freaks, may proceed. And I say the word freak, knowing that I am one, dammit!
This is a true story.
I'm aware this junk goes on. I'm not stupid, and I'm by no means a prude.
But the other day, I was on campus, and heard the call of nature. I ducked into the nearest bathroom. As I was walking in, another, uh, gentleman entered at the same time. I politely held the door, and, while avoiding an outright smile, made eye contact to to let him know he should enter the bathroom before me.
He smiled, walked in and proceeded to the first (and only) urinal. Damn these small bathrooms....
Then, it happened. He made whatever preparations he was going to make for the business at hand, and then turned back at me and smiled. And it wasn't a polite, Thanks for holding the door open for me, smile. It was that kind of smile.
Again, just to clarify: I've been cruised before. Hell, I've even blatantly cruised before. But not in a bathroom, where the deuce is loose. I mean, c'mon. The smell of poo and the sounds of bowels releasing in dirty water isn't a much of a turn on. But there he was, maroon briefs, jeans down around the floor (OK, I peeked).
I waited until the stall was free, went in, did my biz and left.
The sad part was, he was a pretty good looking guy: nice body, decent face - I'm not sure about the maroon butt huggers, but the bottom line is that he didn't need to be cruising a public bathroom. I don't know, maybe it was the "thrill" of a public place for him. I get that. There's an elevator at UCLA a pal and I rocked once... that was hot. But that was different.
Or at least, that's what I tell myself. Who knows...