The first time I used the “other” bathroom

by Bill Tyson
Special to The Gayly

Trans-individuals consider their bathroom stops and usage like cross-fitters used to talk about meal-planning in 2016.

Therefore, it is no surprise that being 12 months into being out as trans and on hormones, I was confronted with the possibility that “making it home” to use the restroom wasn’t going to be an option.

I had spent the night prior playing Monopoly with a close group of friends like it was the last night alcohol and “the top-hat” could spend together.

I found myself at an IHOP at 9 a.m. with that same group of friends consuming coffee and copious amounts of fatty meats hoping to alleviate my hangover before seeing The Avengers.

It was halfway through the breakfast sampler that I realized I needed to use the restroom.

From IHOP, we went to the Warren Theater and purchased our tickets, as normal people do, not considering the restroom to be the be-all end-all of our decently good-looking faces and more importantly, our pride.

I whispered to my partner “I have to use the restroom,” as my bladder assaulted my primal autonomic nervous system. My three semi-conservative cis-gendered friends knew the tone in my whisper and chimed “I will go with you.”

They all looked so confident, manly, and unconcerned. I self-reflected at myself looking so “boobs enter the room,” concerned, and “a female jawline,” and knew it was either sit through a good majority of the Marvel line-up (as they died), feeling more tormented than most, or to face the trans-fear itself.

As peer-pressure normally results, I tried to “shoulder-out and wide-stance” myself into the restroom. I was quickly assaulted with the perception that I was the only non-cisgendered “dude” in the room. I skulked quickly to a stall and relieved myself. I wondered the whole time that others would know my urination decibel was higher than most and I would be quickly outed before knowing the joy of a crappy beard and hair on my toes.

But alas, all others were consumed with their entertainment ventures.

I exited quickly and walked quickly “to the light,” which, for who do not know in the male restroom at the Warren Theatre, is a room full of urinals with no exit in sight. A man, who looked to be a young 30, told me “hey bud, the sinks are that way,” and redirected me to the less aggressive room of motion-censored soap and water.

I washed my hands and exited. It took me three days to settle my stomach, but I recently have concurred rural 7-11s and Jiffy Trips. Most likely, my trans-friends, you are not alone. Remember-shoulders-out and wide-stance.   

To my friends who were not ashamed to escort me to a stall and risk their decently good-looking face for my non-normative face, thank you. To the mid-30-year-old, either thank you for caring about well-buttered popcorn more or being a self-educated Oklahoma liberal.

If you see a trans-individual trying to relieve their bladder, please keep in mind this will be this the scariest event of their week. Do encourage them…but not while they are in the stall.

Copyright The Gayly. 11/2/2018 @ 4:05 p.m. CST.