A lot of my male friends constantly badger me with the eternal question - "Why do women go together to the rest room?" And as is my wont, I just smile mysteriously. They go on to add that a guy would sooner be caught dead than caught saying, “Hey Tom, wanna go to the restroom? I was going, so thought of askin you.”
It’s not the same scenario with women, who will happily go arm in arm with one another to the restroom, spend a good ten minutes there, and return smiling ear-to-ear. Cases have been known where two women acquaintances have walked into a restroom, and emerged as bosom pals, with promises of meeting up for weekend shopping, coffee, gossip, and the like, and surprise, surprise, kept these promises too.
So what goes on beyond those closed doors? Let me just say – “Lots.” (Don’t miss my Cheshire cat grin).
However, before you dismiss this as yet another monologue about Mars and Venus, let me come to the point, and assure you that is not what this post is all about. The only point of similarity is that this post too is about restrooms, and the women who frequent them.
You have the funny sorts, who will go to any kind of length to completely avoid contact with the loo door (long live those handy purse handles / sleeves / elbows). They take the meaning of germaphobes to an altogether different high, giving tough competition to the likes of Cameron Diaz, a celebrity mysophobe.
There are different ways that women wash one’s hands too. They are firstly classified into two categories: the ones who wash their hands, and the ones for whom washing is as unfamiliar a concept as is eating meat to a confirmed vegan. Going back to the first category, they can be sub-classified.
So you have those who fancy themselves as athletes of repute. So they zip in, do their business (if you know what I mean), pay a cursory visit to the washbasin, and before you can blink, they have pumped the soap into their palms, turned on the tap, washed their hands, used the paper-towel dispenser to grab a towel / waved hello to the drying machine, and bounded out, without missing a stride. Hello, you couldn’t even count till ten. (Whistle).
You have those who take their own sweet time to traipse in. These are the sorts who take the “smell the flowers along the way” advice very very seriously. So much so that you would feel that you have been transported into slo-mo, if you were to watch them. The slow motion theme becomes agonizing if you are on the other side of the loo door, waiting for them to come out. Cos obviously they will take an entire era to come out…
You have the splashers, who insist on wetting the entire world and its sister. What is life all about if you miss out on such splashings, isn’t it? The more the water, the better the party promises to be.
How can you miss out the ones who believe in water conservation. After doing the routine, they walk over to the tap, gingerly unscrew it, and upon getting a few droplets, look up to the ceiling, as if silently thanking for the holy water. It’s a “miracle” they don’t drink the droplets, making do with considering themselves “blessed” with having touched the holy water.
After the customary washing of hands, you also have those who will go the entire way – using paper towels, tossing the used ones into the trash bin. There are those who would rather use a gun to shoot themselves than dry their hands with the machine kept specifically for that purpose. Instead, they will valiantly shake their hands to make the droplets fall, closely resembling a mongrel trying its best to shake off pesky fleas. The shakers sometimes also leave a tiny lake of water right before the basin. The next unsuspecting victim to bend near the basin will thus have some very tell-tale wet patches in the front, leading to a lot of sniggering behind her back.
And then you have quite a majority of womenfolk, for whom the restroom is the perfect place to talk over the phone, cry (when they have arguments with their beaus), touch-up (already) perfect makeup, spray some heady perfume, stare at the mirror till it looks fit to crack, and then walk out, after having obviously relieved their bladders.
I should know this last category best.
I am one of them…
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