the condom of truth.

This morning I returned to my room to get my phone before going into the bathroom. Was I expecting a call? Of couse not. I am not popular, no one ever calls me. And if for some reason I did get a call there is nothing that couldn’t have waited until my business in there had come to conclusion. Yet I still felt it necessary to maintain my electronic connection to the outside world.

I find it deeply disturbing to answer the telephone while taking a shit. Once I was told that being able to go the bathroom in front of someone is the highest form of intimacy, but the idea of forcing the unwitting individual on the other end of the line to be a part of that intimacy violates my Sagittarian sense of justice. I try to operate on the principle of full disclosure, a fact that I believe is doing considerable damage to my love life. Conceptually speaking, people always insist they prize honesty but in practice it terrifies them. People seem to be more comfortable with the idea of a STD than honesty. A transmittable disease can be wrapped in plastic, but there is no condom of truth.

Having done my duty in the bathroom I return to my room and check my email. No messages their either. (and no, mom, I don’t have any transmittable diseases.)