Double Trouble

Conversations In The Bathroom

The dress that I had chosen for myself wasn't scandalously short by accident.

My face was feeling nearly heavy from all the face products and make up I was wearing. But I could assure you it looked far from tacky, cause it was professionaly done by one of my dad's make up artists, Petunia, who also happened to have becommed a rather close friend of mine.

There were some advantages by having a famous dad.

As I reached the resturant my palms had started swetting to the point where my phone would slide out my hand if I held it the wrong way.

I told the waitress who I was here to meet and she started guiding me to the table. And then I saw the three of them. Chase, H. Bailey, or Holly, as she was to him, and Blake. I suddenly realized that I had not seen Blake in five years either. And if Chase was dating a world famous rapper, where would I even begin to imagine what Blake was up to?

Was he dating Malala? Greta Thunberg? Whatever other woman that was far more sucessfull than me would just feel like someone would twist the knife around that Chase had alredy stabbed into my stomach.

Graphic indeed, but completely accurate.

"I just need to use the restroom," I told the waitress and she pointed me in the right direction. Already feeling dizzy, walking in heals too high for my balance, made me feel like a fool as I basically fled the whole situation.

As I got into the bathroom stall I hadn't even decided if I was planning on ending up at that table next to Blake at all.

I sat there, staring at my phone for a solid twenty minutes, wondering what to do, before I heard pounding on the stall door, making my body freeze.

"Ey, open up, would ya?" It was an autralian accent.

And a man's voice...

I swallowed, wondering what to answer. Why the hell was there a man in the women's restroom?

"Ehm..." I just started.

"You've been in there for like a quarter."

God how embarrasing. I cleared my voice, but could not deside whether to try to sound like a man or not.

Obviosly not.

Fuck how darn embarrasing.

"Can you not use the other stall?" My voice must have sounded even highter and more woman-like than ever before.

A moment of silence went by. "It's out of orde-... are you a woman?"

I swallowed, rolling my eyes. The second hand embarrasment I was going to feel now.

"I belive you're in the wrong restroom," I said, in an adult kind of way, no shame on him, no mocking.

"Eh," he started, and I heard him opening the door, probably leaving.

But then I heard him coming back. "This is definetly the men's room."

A tiny moment of panic went by, but then I just shook my head. I was not in the wrong room. No.

"I don't think so," I said, confidently.

"I just checked," he said. "Would you like me to prove it? Come out and you will see."

I just smiled, shaking my head. "Well, if that were to happen it would simply be me proving you right to myself."

"What are you talking about? Girl, you are definetly in the wrong restroom."

His tone was starting to annoy me. And why could he not just leave? Just the way that he talked to me, so condesending, calling me a girl when I clearly was above the age of eighteen. Last year Petunia had let me borrow some books on modern feminism, and it turned out men often call women girls when they wish to appear and feel more dominant, smarter and overall better. It was part of the chapter on unconsious sexism.