An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of Contamination OCD

(Or When Shit Gets Real)

When you do that first wipe and realize a quick #2 is about to become a major challenge for which the only winner will be the TP company… The forests will suffer, your schedule will suffer, your friends and family or coworkers or clients will suffer waiting for you, your patience and nerves will suffer, your very soul will be tried, but ultimately, your butthole will suffer…

OCD: Obsessive Compulsive Daughters

I can shit 1,000 times at home and only have to wipe a few times. Sometimes, I’m lucky and it’s a totally clean wipe, though I still do secondary- and even tertiary wipes just to be certain, in case it was a mis-wipe. Ahhhh, those are always good days …the days of the Perfect Poop — you just know the rest of the day is going to be incredible!

But put me in a public restroom, anywhere in the world, and it’s ALWAYS a major challenge — I’m gonna use the entire roll, and the backup, and probably the one from the stall next door. It’s why I don’t shit in public restrooms unless it’s absolutely 100% a shit-mergency. Otherwise, I’ll wait till I get home or back to my hotel.

I always know going into it that it’s going to be a chore, so I’ll ask for the spray cleaner and, clenching my cheeks hard as I can to hold it, I’ll usually — and quickly — clean the toilet seat up real good so I can plop my ass on it comfortably, without having to wrap it in TP and feel like I’m sitting on a doctor’s examination table. My days of squatting are long gone, if I’m gonna shit, I’m gonna be comfy doing it. My knees can’t take a long squat-and-drop anymore.

I’ll use the handicap stall because it’s roomier. It’s like the “Presidential Suite” of bathroom stalls. It’s like sitting — er, shitting — in First Class. That is, provided the bathroom is decently clean to begin with. Otherwise, it’s like shitting in some third world hell.

If it’s nasty, I’ll hold it until I find a cleaner bathroom first. The lobby of a good hotel usually has the cleanest. People don’t use them as often; they use the ones in their rooms because MOST people prefer the comfort and privacy of their own john.

Before I go, I grab a handful of paper towels and dampen them, too. Just in case. There’s usually a nice hook to hang my clothes on as well. Yup, if I have to resort to a public poop, the clothes are coming off. I don’t want my jeans dragging on the peed-on floor. And I won’t risk my shirt getting splashed on or any other sort of collateral turd damage. (One time at a wedding reception my white shirt tail got caught up in a hurried wipe stroke. It wasn’t pretty. I threw it out and spent the rest of the reception as the drunken shirtless guy in a tux jacket.)

And so I do my best to make myself at home, because I know going into it, to always expect the worst in the public restroom — because that’s when the shit gets real. It all comes down to borderline Contamination OCD with a hint of Parcopresis (the fear of shitting in public, also known as “shy bowel”). Hey, we all got our hang-ups.





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