A Naive Guy In The Lesbians’ Bathroom

Wednesday Ginny got sick at work, just a passing malady unrelated to her diabetes, but yesterday I drove her to the doctor’s office and I’m nursing her again today. In sickness and in health and all that jazz -- but I definitely prefer her in health.

----

A friend e-mailed me a cartoon that for some reason reminded me of an odd incident that happened to me years ago in a lesbian couple’s bathroom… actually, as I recall there were two separate incidents:

Now, before my evangelical readers get all hot and bothered, let me state that I think homosexual guys and lesbian girls are missing out on something nice. I think they miss the best by substituting something less.

Besides, in the first chapter of his letter to the Romans (verses 24 to 32) St. Paul ranks homosexual behavior right up there with envy, greed, arrogance, disobeying parents, bragging, and gossip in his checklist of things which God considers reprobate. Boy, folks who do awful stuff like that had better watch out on Judgment Day!

But since you and I don’t do any of those abominable things, we’re ok… Right?

Anyhow, over the years I have held dear a number of folks who’d make St. Paul’s list, and one time this lesbian couple, who cared for a senile old grandmother, called on me to help them tear down this termite riddled shed in their backyard.

The girls had to run to the store and asked me to keep an eye on Granny till her visiting nurse showed up.

When the young nurse arrived instead of the usual caregivers, she found this strange man, me, in the house. She needed to go into the bathroom to wash up before giving Granny her shots or whatever.

She closed the door.

After a while she pounded on the bathroom door and yelled that she was locked in. I tried to open the door from the outside. It wouldn’t budge. I tried to slip a plastic credit card between the lock plates like James Bond does in the movies. I couldn’t trip the lock.

The nurse was beginning to get a bit excited thinking I had shut her in there for some nefarious purpose.

I found a screwdriver and tried to pry the door hinges to let the lady out. Bent the screwdriver.

By this time she was in a near panic and Granny realized that the nurse was locked in the bathroom. She found that funny and began to cackle, loud as a jackhammer.

Finally, I went outside and pried off the screen, forced open the bathroom window which was painted shut, and helped the nurse (who was wearing an interestingly tight skirt) climb out the window.

She was not happy.

But she treated Granny -- quickly -- and left.

When the girls arrived home they said, “Oh we never close that door all the way; that lock sticks. We’ve been meaning to fix it for years”.

I crawled through the window, got the door open and fixed the lock.

On another occasion I’d gone over to help the couple move a monster-huge sofa bed. This time, I was the one who needed the bathroom.

While I was in there I noticed this strange appliance prominent on the shelf. At first I though it was a flare gun… A flare gun in the bathroom??? A pink, plastic flare gun???

It appeared to have a thick barrel leading to a circular chamber attached to a pistol grip with a long black electric cord… What in the world is that thing?

What would a lesbian couple use a thing like that for?

I mean I know that there are stores that sell adult toys… but what is this thing? What would it do? You could get electrocuted…

I imagined this and I imagined that, but nothing I imagined made any sense. How could they use that to…? I mean how would it fit ?

I puzzled and puzzled but nothing in my limited experience supplied an answer…

So when I came out of the bathroom I worked up my courage and asked a very embarrassing, personal question, I described the thing I saw, and asked what they used it for.

The girls started giggling.

Then they laughed.

Then they howled in glee.

“John, that’s a hair dryer!!!! What did you think it was???”

Hey, I’d never seen one before; what was I to think?

Anyhow, here’s the cartoon that reminded me of that bathroom: