A couple weekends ago, me and my roommates threw a huge kegger at our apartment.
I was minding my own business for a minute, aka peeing in my bathroom with the door closed, when suddenly the door springs open. At this point, I expected a scream or the police. Unfortunately, it was neither.
It was this dude I know, he wouldn't qualify as a friend, like I don't have his number, but I've seen him more than three times, which makes him one of those half-friends. We're kind of on the "will say hi to each other but nobody would be pissed/surprised if the other didn't" level, you know? But we've known each other long enough that we both know it won't ever get to a higher level. I know it sounds like I'm describing a relationship or something, but bear with me.
Anyways, that dude walks in our bathroom (where, if you'll remember, I'm peeing; which is small, just a shower and a toilet, the sink is outside) like he owns the place.
What I am about to describe next is not for children, women who are pregnant, or those who are faint of heart.
The dude, who we'll call "Jason," proceeds to unbutton his pants, unzip his fly, and pull out his penis. He then starts pissing in the same. fucking. toilet as me.
Suddenly I felt like I could justifiably say I had a traumatic childhood. I felt owed reparations by the government. I could see years of therapy ahead of me.
He said something along the lines of "this is what guys do…this is what roommates do…well, possible roommates, right?" with a little cocky laugh. Yes, you're making a real good case to be roommates here. "Hey, let's share a house and we can piss at the exact same moment into the exact same two-inch opening ALL THE TIME."
I don't remember much in this moment that didn't seem real and will undoubtably scar me for life, but I probably nodded like a scared child in the hands of a pedophile priest who says something like "every action is performed by God, and you want to honor God, right?" and spouted out quiet sputtered little gibberish.
I finished up as quickly as a human being can possibly squeeze pee out of themselves, opened the door (which he had conveniently closed on the way in before) and walked out of my bathroom.
As I was walking out, a girl was calling for him and since she had only seen him go into the bathroom, thought I was going to be him and said "Jasonnn…ohhhh you were in there too?!" in a state of combination complete shock, confusion, disgust, and terror, looking me up and down and I can only imagine pronouncing me gay and psychopathic in one millisecond.
I realized at that moment my chances of ever sleeping with a member of the opposite sex, the same sex, or any organism or species again had just went down by at least eighty-five percent.
I scurried out, repeating "I just got raped. I just got raped" while looking down and around nervously and quickly from side to side as I exited the other part of the bathroom, walking past a couple other girls who I can only imagine were throwing up in their mouths.
I don't really know how to wrap this up in a way that provides some kind of life lesson, moral, or funny quip. There is no funny quip. There is no lesson that can be inferred, I don't think. Shit happens? Life is unfair? God is dead? Fuck my life?
I guess what it comes down to is that Louis Armstrong was wrong when he sang "What A Wonderful World."