I hate urinals. I’m not quite sure at which point the men of Western society decided that it was, in fact, perfectly acceptable to urinate communally, much of the time with complete strangers, but I do know that I have not sufficiently made the evolutionary leap that would allow me to do so. I get nervous if there’s somebody next to me when I’m attempting to use the toilet; this makes it difficult to complete the process, more difficult still to start, which must give off the impression that I have some problems in that department - which is untrue! I’m perfectly healthy. I just don’t like urinals.
Last night, unfortunately, I had to use one. I’m quite sure a man looked at my penis.
This is where my trouble began. The urinals were the typical archetype: about half a foot apart, fixed to the wall, etc. This meant that there was a man directly to the right of me, close enough, had he looked, to see my penis. There was no concealing it; this is the nature of urinating. My private parts were at the mercy of his roving eyes. I was thoroughly vulnerable.
Now, let us look at the situation in a little more depth. At the time, I was convinced that I had seen this man, at the edge of my vision, glancing sidelong at my penis. This brought about puzzling logical connotations. I could either do nothing, or check to see if my suspicions were true by sneaking a peek at him.
Whilst the former course of action may seem the most appropriate, there are risks involved. If I neglect to act, my antagonist may assume, reasonably, that I am not aware of his intrusion, and continue. This would make me uncomfortable. Worse still, he may assume that I am aware of his intrusion and seek to do nothing about it - thus consenting his lascivious behaviour, and provoking lewd action of a more serious kind. Perhaps I would even offend him? After all, as aforementioned, I am generally unused to urinals. This could have been some form of ettiquette: observe my penis, I will observe yours, we are men, and we are content to be so. Did I appear uncouth? Perhaps ashamed of my body?
The obvious action seemed to be to return the favour. This way, I could quickly ascertain whether my penis was being scrutinised or not and put paid to my frantic worrying. The peril of this route is obvious: if this man was not, in fact, looking at my penis, I have committed a terrible faux pas. If this man is so inclined, he may think I am attempting to elicit sexual behaviour from him, which could lead to disastrous results: either a beating, or a misunderstood sexual exploit, depending on his preference.
The thread of inquiry continues. If he is of a similar disposition to me, he may well catch a glimpse of my investigation, and go through the same thought process - in which I have made him uncomfortable if he neglects to look, and me uncomfortable if he looks. I could interpret that second look as certain sexual intent, and act rashly based off this!
There is literally no correct way to act in that situation.
This is why I avoid urinals.
