Monday, May 12, 2008

The problems with a urinal

I hiked my foot onto the metal splash back and held my skirt back and peed. There were men at the trough, several men, hardly any and they seemed annoyed to be standing beside a girl who was pissing in their urinal. They are territorial, men. They claim their ground, feet sturdy and placed wide on the urinous concrete. Tipping their hips forward confidently.

"This isn't a place for ladies" one of them said to me, glancing at the obscenity of my vagina, curling his lips back as if it were split and rotting fruit. There were men in every cubicle, I could see their feet butting up against each other, hear the fleshy slap of them against the metal walls. There were groans and sucking sounds and a kind of high pitched whine that sounded more like annoyance than pleasure.

"Well the 'ladies' is no place for poofs." I snap back, stepping away from the trough, smoothing down my skirt. Relieved.

I stomped out past the same desperate women waiting in the same desperate queue as the gentlemen slapped and slurped and banged around in the girls toiletcubicles.

My hands shook just a little. It was brave of me to rest my boot against the splashboard of their urinal and piss standing like a man, the leather fags and the body-builders eyeing off the dissapointment of my genitals. I couldn't have done it without the four vodkas. I wouldn't have needed to do it if I hadn't had the four vodkas.

Now it was done.

"I pissed standing up at the boys urinal," I told him, my gay lover.

"Don't be stupid."

"No I did. I really did."

He grinned and then he nodded. "That's my girl." he said.

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