Dear Girl in the Women's Bathroom on the First Floor of Shaw

Dear Girl in the Women’s Bathroom on the First Floor of Shaw

To Whom it May Concern,

I had a lovely time, yesterday, hearing about Mike’s

luxurious locks

his smoldering good-looks,

and the way your eyes locked across the dance floor at Theta Chi,

how his hands, smelling mildly of perspiration,

cologne,

and Keystone Light,

caressed your neck and you were hooked.

I really am sorry that he’s giving you

The run-around

sending you mixed signals

that are making your head spin,

and that his frat-boy flakiness

is breaking your heart

But I’m even more sorry that you don’t have the confidence

in yourself to know you deserve better.

To know you’re only as strong as you let yourself be,

So don’t let the douches bring you down.

But let’s be real here-

As much advice as I’d like to give,  

I’m really not invested in your life story.

This might seem a bit harsh,

But given that we’re currently in

The only women’s bathroom in the whole of Shaw Hall,

All I want to do is pee in peace.

Just after I enter my stall,

on the brink of that exquisite moment of release,

I hear a metallic keening,  

suddenly pumping the room full of

“if you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it.”

then, your shrill voice,

pervading the formerly

Silent air with these immortal words…

“I swear that bastard will regret

dancing with me all night long, friending me on Facebook.

and then making out with Cindy the  next fucking night at afterhours.”   

I’m pretty sure I’m not alone

In thinking

That it’s entirely idiotic

to make the assumption that you are alone

In a very PUBLIC restroom.

That’s why it’s public, after all.

because, you know, people USE IT.

And here you are—

Stomping in like you own the world,

Or at least most of Illinois Wesleyan,

ruining my previously pleasant bathroom experience.

Now I either get to sit here and wait

Until you finish dusting yourself in the mirror

To make my move to the exit,

Or I flush now, and make you

Embarrassingly aware of my presence,

And the fact that you spilled your heart out

With me two stalls over.  

Neither of these options is appealing.

But I guess I don’t have a choice.

I remain silent,

Seething at you in my head,

As your voice

as torturous as a never ending baby’s wail,  

or a thousand years of listening to nails scratch

on an ancient chalkboard,

continues to interrupt my attempted

respite from the monotonies of class.

I wait—for my chance to relieve the building stress  

On my organs

while a veritable river of insults

speeds through my brain.

Finally you stop,

And I start to silently

Thank the bathroom gods for being so kind,

When I hear you choke back a sob,

Trying to keep yourself from breaking down.

That’s when I know I’ve gone too far.  

Until this moment,

You were just a voice, a pest—

Something I wanted to swat away.

One of those stupid green aphids

that swarmed the quad last fall,

getting into our noses, eyes, mouths,

making moving anywhere a battle.

But Girl, your tears have made you real.

Even though I never said anything,

The thoughts in my head were bad enough.

I act this way—think this way,

because I’m jealous that someone liked you enough

To at least try to hook up with you,

Because I’m fairly certain I’m dying alone.

I’m making fun of you to prove to myself

However pointlessly,

That I’m stronger than that.

I’m above you,

That I don’t need a guy’s attention to fulfill me,

Because I’m okay with being alone.

But really I’m not.

And that scares the crap out of me.

I’m also just jealous

Because you have the courage to talk about your problems

No matter where you are.

You’re probably aware that you are in a bathroom,
but you’ve stopped caring what people think,

And I haven’t.

I wish I could stand up and flush right now,

But I’m too much of a coward.

So thanks.

You’ve taught me something important.

Taught me that having the guts to speak my voice

is sometimes just as important as the words being said.

I guess all that’s left to say is…

I’m sorry,

Girl in the women’s bathroom on the first floor of Shaw.

Sorry for my needless judgment,

And even sorrier for your pain.

But, most importantly,

I hope you find someone who deserves you.

Because obviously Mike didn’t.

I hope you can see that.

I hope you can be happy.

original: 2.2011

latest: 5.2011