How come men will never stop the car to let you go to the bathroom?
Negotiating pee breaks is like negotiating world peace. Utmost diplomacy must be used and proper wording is crucial. There must be ceremony and goodwill fostered – gifts exchanged – before the two parties sit down at the negotiating table. Big things are at stake here.
“Are you planning on stopping for gas soon?”
“Um OK. “Hungry?”
“How far to the next town?”
“I could use a washroom, you know, when it is convenient to stop.” I smile hopefully.
I try again, “You know, like if you happen to see a rest stop along the way and it is easy to pull off … I am not desperate yet or anything, I am just trying to give you good notice that I will need to stop in the next hour ok?”
“Ya sure, we can see …”
I have considered just saying “OK.”
…and peeing on the front seat …
It’s like it is some kind of personal affront that I would want to interrupt his non-stop driving with my need to pee. Like I planned everything out and decided to invent peeing and to spring it on him on this super important trip that he mapped out precisely factoring how many seconds it takes to get fuel before he can get back on the road. I did it all JUST to annoy him. Come on. People have to pee. We answer the call of nature every day without any drama. Why does it all change when men get in their cars and drive? How can you not factor that people in the car will need to stop and attend to their bodily functions? Having to stop for us? It is such a problem. But stopping to pick up a bag of chips?? Well come on … now we are talking basic common sense, right? OMG are you kidding?
Having to pull off the highway into a service station is evidently quite traumatic for men. The big complaint is the waiting time. But pulling over to the side of the road for me to pee and waiting is much easier. The waiting time is exactly the same. Trust me. In fact, depending on the condition of the ditch I have to wade through, like if there is garbage, a bunch of bottles, a dead body or something the roadside stop might actually take MORE time.
I hate having to yell at him from behind the gopher carcas that I am trying to hide behind, “Do you mind not revving the engine and honking the horn all the time .. I am trying to pee.”
Maybe I should just give up. Maybe, when I know we are about to leave on a trip I should just say, “Come on kids we are going on a road trip. Everyone got their catheters in? You know how daddy is.”
So he keeps driving, and hour passes and another and so I try again, “I really have to pee now. I mean you HAVE to find somewhere to stop.”
Then he says things like,”there are trees up ahead.”
“Wow, nice! Thanks for that, and???”
“Well, maybe you can just go behind one of them.”
“Do I look like I have a penis?”
He suggested a “rest stop” the other day.
“I don’t need to rest, I need to pee.”
And he drove on by.
I hate it when he chooses to make a point that costs me dearly. It’s at times like this that I consider keeping my mouth shut … but the moment passes.
Rest stops are scary. I was driving home the other day from the city and passed a rest stop where a number of vehicles had pulled up. Two older men and a woman were in various stages of leaving the restroom area. They were all trying to look like they didn’t know each other so they each went off in a different direction. I just couldn’t figure out why they all had their hands down their pants adjusting themselves. That kind of thing only leaves you with a couple of conclusions – either it was really dark in the bathrooms and they were afraid they might have misplaced something so they were checking to make sure everything was there, OR they all had a heck of a good time. Either way, I was not going to stop and “rest.”
Funny how when you want to talk to a man about something important, HE always has to go to the bathroom, especially if it is time to do the dishes.
Then there is night time peeing. He clearly was given the foreman’s hat.
“How many times did you get up during the night?”
“Just the times I had to pee.”
Snort. He rolls his eyes and I resist the urge to punch. I have promised my therapist not to punch anymore.
Instead, I offer, “I could sleep through them you know, I don’t mind, it’s your call. Really, I love you that much. Either you wake up to the annoying sound of the toilet flushing or you can wake up wet.”
We took his mother to Las Vegas when she was 84. He wouldn’t stop for her. His own mother!! She was so desperate, she just went in the field, no tree, not even a fence post to shield her from the oncoming traffic. They honked and waved and she just … peed. I cried a little bit. My future passed in front of my eyes, Me 92, hobbling down into the ditch, not even caring, just needing to pee, him on the bullhorn telling me to hurry up …
I made a decision right there and then.
I was going to pay a lot more attention to those ads in my email junk box about growing a bigger penis…
….and I am going to talk to my therapist about punching. Sometimes you just have to.