I believe that life is like one big urinal.
(I’m kidding.)
Actually, this entire thing started because of a conversation I had over coffee with a good friend. We were discussing — among other topics — public restroom etiquette. You know, like, no grunting, no random conversations, no eye contact, and if a row of urinals is empty, you don’t grab the one right next to another guy—
Wait, she interrupted. “You actually prefer to use a urinal?”
“Uhh, well yeah. I mean, that’s what it’s there for.”
Right, she said. But, you know, wouldn’t you like to be in a stall where you could lock the door and have privacy?
“Uhh, I mean, I guess. But urinals are faster.”
“So, you would always use a urinal if you’re peeing?”
Well of course, I thought. But then it struck me — I’m face-to-face with a woman. How the fuck would she know how it works in the men’s restroom? And unless you’re in Taiwan or something, urinals aren’t really an option for women.
I once knew a guy who still pulled down his pants to his knees when he used the urinal. He was 30. And like a person who discovered comedy gold, I joked about it to a girl. All she could muster was a confused look and an, “Okay. What does that mean?”
Well, that means he goes to the bathroom like a five-year-old, I replied.
“Umm, how else do you do it, then?” she asked.
So then I told her about that customary thing men do with their zipper. (Don’t make me explain it.) And she looked at me like I said the shortest distance between two points was a squiggly line. Or like I had a third eye blinking on my forehead.
Knowledge, you see, belongs only to the person who knows it. It’s like that episode in The Simpsons where Bart and Milhouse are talking about the mall:
Bart: Yeah, it’s just like my dad always says:
Homer: [in a thought balloon] For an evening or a week, there’s no place like the mall. Food, fun and fashion, the mall has it all!
(Bart runs to the mall, leaving Milhouse behind)
Milhouse: What? What did he say?!
You can’t assume that someone knows what you know, and I made that very mistake when talking about bathroom etiquette with my friend. Once you know something (or in my case, know how to use the men’s room), you can’t unknow it and you’ll unintentionally assume that everyone else knows it too.
Knowledge, therefore, will forever bias you.
But it messes us up in worse ways than just a silly conversation about bathroom humor. This knowledge cluster-fuck affects how we relate to other people — someone else might be “stupid” because he doesn’t know what we know or can’t learn it as quickly, all the time forgetting how much of a struggle it was for us to learn it too.
Ever play with Legos? Imagine all those little bastards all over the carpet and you’re looking for the thin one that’s 2×3. (I hate that piece.) Well imagine if you can spot the piece and your friend can’t — you won’t mind it for a few seconds, but after a few minutes, we’ll start to question how he or she put their pants on in the morning.
I’m guilty of it as much as anyone else.
How do we fix this? That, I’m not sure. Because it’s ingrained in our nature. But I think it has something to do with going easier on ourselves because once we can do that, well, all those little things stop mattering as much.
Until then, no wayward glances.
Leave a Reply