The Poop Date
by Norton Loomer
I learned everything I know about modern dating while sitting on the toilet one day after school.
Normally I don’t use the student bathroom for my business, but I had a teacher meeting to get to and didn’t feel like making the quarter mile trek to the staff bathroom, only to find the stall occupied by one of the pot-smoking janitors. Besides, it was after school, so I figured I was in the clear. Sure enough, the bathroom was empty, so I locked the door, dropped my pants, sat down, and admired the writing on the wall while I waited for the big event.
I wasn’t too far along when two rowdy students, way too rambunctious for a public bathroom, began making a ruckus. At first I thought they were just there to change for whatever after school activity they did, so I just continued to sit and mind my own business. They let out a string of profanity, but other than that, they weren’t really causing me any problems. I sat there and tried to go undetected, being careful not to expel any bursts caused by the buildup of six hours without a bathroom break.
But left alone I would not be. When the initial shouting was over, a whispering began. I couldn’t quite make out what the young lads were saying, but it seemed to have something to do with me occupying the stall. I continued to focus on my own business, but sometimes the pressure gets to be too much.
Then the banging started. “Hey, who’s in there?” one of them shouted in an awkward pubescent squeak while the door rattled and quivered. Unsure the little latch would hold, I ripped off some toilet paper and prepared for departure.
“Hey, answer us!” the other one shouted.
“Yeah. Get outta there. We’re on our poop date.”
I quickened my pace, but not in time. Like a nimble monkey, one of the students emerged over the top of the stall and shouted something unintelligible at me before leaping off in what looked like fear.
“Hey, I think it’s the track coach,” he whispered after a surefooted landing on the tile.
“I don’t care,” the other one shouted. “This is our poop date! He needs to get out of there.”
Embarrassed for all of us, I finished wiping but remained fixed to the seat. I wanted to give them the chance to escape. I’d already seen one face, and although I hoped it was a vague enough depiction that I wouldn’t recognize him in the hallway, I knew I would never be able to forget him.
“I’m outta here,” the climber said.
“No. You need to stick around for a poop date.”
The climber didn’t acquiesce. There was some shuffling of bags and feet followed by steps that gradually distanced themselves from the toilet. Then silence. Surely they were gone.
I rose, pulled up my pants, and stepped out of the stall, the toilet automatically swallowing behind me. Marching to the sink, I spied a young man hanging out by the urinal. He gave me a funny look, but I refused to make eye contact. I pretended it wasn’t one of them, that the funny look was just the reaction to seeing a teacher in the bathroom. Students don’t seem to think we have normal lives. They don’t expect to see teachers outside of the classroom. We don’t even have bodily functions. We’re just weirdos who coop ourselves up in a classroom for days on end, slaving away at lesson planning and paper grading.
After my meetings were over, I went down to the track to organize cross country practice. On my way into the stadium, the climber, dressed now in his football gear, gave me a curious smile, and I knew my embarrassment exceeded his. I nodded to let him know I would never speak of this, and his return glance told me that he would make his dating life a bit more private from now on.
That is until he posted a picture of himself naked on Twitter. At least that’s what I heard.