A Nasty Gay in a Bathroom Stall
How two random strangers made me feel like an animal
I should have known I couldn’t go to a sports bar without consequences.
I was there with my mother and grandmother, grabbing lunch on a football Saturday. The crowd was boisterous and the food was greasy — not my first choice, but not a bad option for a quick bite with the ladies.
Soon enough, my mimosa sped through my system and I needed to relieve myself — something I tend to dread as a gay man in public restrooms, particularly in masculine-leaning places like this one.
I walked into an empty restroom — a relief.
I scanned for the place I could relieve myself in the most peace, despite the fact that the room was empty. There were two urinals on the right side of the room, with no divider in between them — my worst nightmare.
Peeing in the open, next to straight men that will probably take one look at my outfit and assume I want to have sex with them and then get awkward about it? No, thank you!
But, hallelujah, there was a single stall on the other side of the room, which happened to be open. I happily closed myself into the stall and went about my business.
