It all came about very naturally. We were engaged in conversation when the urge made itself known. I'd meant to shut the door but Max decided I wouldn't be closing it this time around. He stuck his giant dog melon in the bathroom to inspect the goings on.
"Oh Max!" I tried to nudge him out, all the while continuing my conversation with The Surge, who was leaning against the bar in our kitchen..
But Max was having none of it. There he stayed, front paws firmly planted on the white bathroom tiles as he watched me unzip, back paws still in the kitchen with The Surge.. Yes, my bathroom opens onto the kitchen.. I can thank some industrious young New York architect from the early twentieth century for that. I actually have two bathrooms. One is the half-bath (sink/toilet) off the kitchen. The other is a half-bath (sink/tub) in the appropriate bathroom spot at the back of the house. Strange, TWO bathrooms, considering how small our apartment is.. but it's certainly fantastic when The Surge is in the midst of one of his marathon shower sessions and I gotsta pee. It works the other way 'round too, the tub coming in particularly useful one drunken morning when The Surge was availing himself of the facilities and I HAD TO GO.
Oh no she didn't. Yes, I did.
So Max wasn't gonna move. But my urine was definitely on the move.. so that's how it happened.. Suddenly, without putting much thought into it, there I was, peeing in front of my husband.. all the while yapping away about whatever it was I was yapping away about.
Before I got married, I declared I absolutely WOULD NOT be one of those girls that performs all manner of bathroom ablutions in front of their betrothed. Peeing publicly was a right strictly reserved for my gaggle of girlfriends, particularly on those drunken nights out with the gal gang. And up until yesterday, I'd kept up my end of the pee pact. I've never seen The Surge pee. The same can't be said for boyfriends of yesteryear, but I'd hoped to maintain some sort of mystique for my husband.. He is forced to observe me in all manner of compromising positions anyway, must he bear unfortunate witness to peeing too?
I'm certainly not embarrassed to pee in front of him.. he's seen me expel all manner of vomit in the most atrocious way possible (filling the cupholders in my truck to the brim on the way home from the FOX Christmas Party 2004) Yes. I did. It's just that.. the pee pact was an unspoken one.. a gallant affording of respect from one spouse to another.
And most certainly if anything MORE than pee needs to be eliminated, I'm all about running the water, coughing strategically to mask any unpleasant splashing that may echo from our very small, acoustic bathroom, reverberating horrifyingly throughout our size small apartment.
But now our silent pee agreement is broken and it was I that pissed it away. Much the same way I can't reclaim my virginity, I can't go back. He saw me pee. Did he care? Of course not. Did it change his perception of me? Nah.. He didn't bat an eyelash.. but still.. I'm just a bit sad. What's next - public tampon changing? Unabashed nose picking? The pee pact was firm ground, a comfortable island in otherwise tumultuous marital waters of Bodily Functions: private vs. public. Now that I've hauled up my anchor I am adrift in yellow waters...