Dogs do it. My cat did it too. I am human, civilized, fully clothed, and vaccinated. I can do it. It was my mantra as a kid. Toilets always fascinated me. As a child, I was mostly afraid of the flushing noise, I ran away before my mother could flush it for me. During the night, I would sit on the toilet and go as fast as my bladder would allow me, I could feel the T-rex breathing on my neck, I needed to hurry up, close the lid and leave it simmering until the morning, flushing would anger the dinosaur into consuming my flesh, it was a fact.
Around age ten, I developed a strategy, I left a broomstick behind the bathroom door and after poorly washing my hands, I would use the broomstick to poke the toilet flush until it released the water with a monstruous sound, while I ran away back to my bed. But my period finally came and I had to get over my fear of flushing toilets. I could say I was a normal teen, watching my blood dripping into the blue water, I never understood why it never became purple, I remembered the color scheme from school art lessons.
I thought growing up, my fascination would die down, as any teenager, I hated everything, I tried not to be a failure at school, look cool and try to mate. I enjoyed American movies though, they also were obsessed with shoving people’s heads inside the toilets. I wondered if they used props or if they actually did it, even my bullies never did it, I was disappointed they didn’t go lengths to teach me a toilet lesson. Not that I ever wanted to drink toilet water, disgusting… but I thought of the cold splash invading my nostrils more often than I could admit to myself.
Toilets were not my only obsession, urinals were too, but they were foreign territory, any woman could attest how they envied men for pissing standing. Soon I started frequenting nightclubs and understood why they had lemon and ice in the urinals. I would hold my breath and try not to let the men intimidate me to leave. I was known for being a weirdo, pissing watcher, they were so full of themselves! Like I cared about the mushy thing in between their legs, most of them were not special.
In my spare time I would visit showrooms, I also liked sinks and bidets, but toilets were special. In the store, I would glide my hands over the borders and my fingers adventuring inside, searching for the water holes under the toilet rim, and touching the depths, dry, water virgin toilet bowl. It was still an incomplete experience, I tried to imagine my fingers touching the water and submerging, arm inside, finding the pipe.
I thought of becoming a plumber, but I would not like to touch the reminiscences of people’s butts. And nobody calls a plumber unless it is messy. I did not want to deal with fluids, then I thought about being an architect, but the architects I knew worked mostly on their computers. My uncle was a civil engineer, he was building a school in the neighboring city, they had toilets, unused, recently installed, plumbers, engineers and bricklayers, all together. I knew it was my call, I wasn’t great at math, but for the toilets I would give my best.
University was boring, but everything changed when we started going to the construction sites, my toilets were there, new, unused, freshly installed, no water supply, empty flush tanks, urinals in line, without yellow stains or lemon slices and rests of cocktails. I made my colleagues uneasy, I knew it, so to avoid any talk, I did what anyone would have done in my place, I ordered a toilet and a urinal online. My mom tried to open my huge and heavy packages, but I took them upstairs to my room, I hated living with my parents, but it saved us money. I had to hide the urinal under my bed, my room was small and cramped, but I exchanged my chair for the toilet at my studying desk. It was funny.
After I graduated, I found work in another country. I had to leave my toilet and urinal behind. I worked by contract, I traveled to many countries and found many toilets and many customs. The squat toilet disappointed me, as an engineer, of course it was simple, less costly and more effective, but it was a soulless hole. As a toilet enjoyer, it was a disgrace, a place where you would mix your feet, genitals and human dejects. I will always glorify the seating toilet as the pillar of western society, but I also agreed that a squat toilet was more hygienic, I never enjoyed the fact my bare ass would touch the same place as others.
The wish to touch the water inside the toilet was still a far-fetched dream. After living in dorms and hotels, I returned to my city, and I dared to rent an apartment. I cleaned the toilet and flushed it many times, but still, it had seen too much already. I went to my parents’ house to retrieve my urinal and toilet and brought them home to decorate my living room.
My new job was at a public office, bleak and joyless, but it meant I could stay in my hometown and go to my small and simple apartment with my toilet and urinal temple right in my living room. It could be weird for potential mates, at least my mom lamented for me, but I had no interest in men, women or in between. Once I tried a man, but the hose bothered my cervix, and I never did it again. Then I tried a woman, but I couldn’t deal with the excess of moisture. I was better on my own, with my toilet and urinal.
I was supervising a small government building, boring colors, the cheapest of everything, I knew the building would fall apart in less than ten years, the toilets suffocating in between narrow stalls. I inspected the bathroom together with the plumber, it was ready, the water filled the flush tanks, we tested it, flushing it twice, ready to go. I cried, so happy, first toilet water, he left the bathroom, but I couldn’t. I visited the six stalls.
My hands would go deep, I touched the first toilet water, it was clean, no butt had ever touched the rim, the bowl had never hosted human waste. It was immaculate, pure, holy, blessed first toilet water. I drank it, I got a bit with my hand and tried, it tasted like dust. I dried my tears, hands and lips. I felt fulfillment at the age of thirty-four. No money, animal or person had made me feel like the first time I drank the first toilet water.
I still remember coming home, in ecstasy, elated. As my nerves calmed, after I took a hot shower, scrubbing my toilet hands, I realized that I was empty of wishes. Three decades to touch the inside of a toilet, what wish would I ever nourish for another three decades? It wasn’t difficult to understand how I fell into depression. It was a mechanical life, waking up, working, coming home to my solitude and frozen food.
Only people that had their dreams come true knew my feelings, it was better if it remained in my imagination, idealized and fantasized, something to work hard and wish for, it was fulfilled too soon. Life was meaningless…until it hit me, I did not need to stop searching for the buildings with first toilet water, there were still many buildings to build, many toilets to install and inspect, many water tanks to fill and many flushes to flush.
It started with a career change, enough designing buildings, I became a certified inspector. It wasn’t difficult to find the juiciest bathrooms in town. The first one I inspected was a new nightclub, in residential buildings it was rare to find urinals, the nightclub was a blessing, a gift from fate. Perfectly clean urinals, still with stickers from the manufacturer. I removed them one by one and kissed them welcome to the world, I won’t lie, I whispered good luck, they would be defiled by the worst kind of human beings, drunks.
The toilets were different, I felt sorry for them, mostly receiving vomit and yellow poop from people that would not care to flush the result of their suffering livers. Their beautiful white porcelain would soon be stained. The lid and seat would likely not survive the opening day. Animals. People underestimated how much our civilization depended on toilets and sewage system.
I know I may sound like a hypocrite, touching virgin toilets and urinals, but I revere and understand much of our civilization relies on hiding what makes us animals, all this talk to say I flushed them, with my hands waiting for the ephemeral waterfall to touch and wet my hands. At the time I wish I was even bolder and attempted to piss like a man, but I still heard footsteps outside. I would not abuse my own luck.
My new job was great, it allowed me to touch so much first toilet waters, however, pointing out the failures of my colleagues came at a cost, inspectors were liabilities, it meant expenses to fix, fines for late delivery, and sometimes even demolition, I wasn’t well received. I didn’t care. My job was great and soon I would have enough to build my own house, with more toilets than I would ever need!
The last inspection of the day was a residential building, it was midafternoon and I pictured myself having a frothy beer after removing my bra, hoping the apartment in question would be well built. I would be gone soon, but my red stickers finished, the apartment seemed to be built by toddlers, cracks on the walls, misaligned windows wouldn’t close, mold, infiltration near the windows, paint chipping off, tiles loose on the wall, you name it. The toilet was leaking! The poor toilet.
I would not let a rat live in that conditions, I prepared to leave, but I had no choice, as two large men blocked my way, asking my verdict, I said the result of my inspection would be available only to my client. I was dragged, I did not fear for my life, only for my body. They took me to the tiny bathroom and held me upside down. My head was inside of the toilet, I had to pretend I hated it, I screamed and they flushed once, then asked me again the inspection result.
It was the same, they could torture me, the apartment would still be unsuitable. I should have lied, they flushed my head once and then twice, I was living the American dream, just like in the movies. They just forgot to give me a moment to breathe, on the third flush I lost it, they realized only when my body stopped offering resistance.
Few people can say they died doing what they loved.
