Ode de toilette

I am a firm believer that the first initial test of the worthiness of any guy in your life begins in the bathroom. Specifically, what he chooses to do with the toilet seat.

I've lived with roommates who I'd classify in the same category as other rectal orifices, and it all showed in the bathroom mess they left behind.

There once was this one beau who I had this HUGE crush on in undergrad. He lived close enough to come over frequently for the hot tub. This always excited me to extreme giddiness, until the day he used the restroom pre-soak. I used the water closet after him, and to my horror - the seat was up. There were drips. I realized then and there that we were not meant to be. But we could still be friends.

When I met Kyle, he put the seat and the lid down. That one perpetuated habit alone granted him years of bonus points. To the extent that when people would ask why we're still together, I'd have to really think about it. 'Why are we together?' I'd ask myself, mildly perplexed. 'Why am I taking so long to answer? This should be an easier question...' Then I'd just smile and come up with: "He's a good guy." Or something equally light and ambiguous. When it really all came down to that one reassuring incident when I walked into the loo as a ray of heavenly light shone down upon a perfectly tended to throne.