not actual bathroom or chair

I went to a married friend’s party this past weekend.  There were mostly couples there but my buddy promised me there would be some single women too.  So I went.

It was awkward at first because I haven’t dated in a while but their house is huge so whenever I needed to disappear for whatever reason, there were plenty of places to go.

As at most decent-sized parties, there are mini-parties that form in key areas.  The kitchen.  The living room.  The den.  The deck / back porch.  The game room.  The bathroom.

The bathroom?

Yes, the bathroom.  And more specifically, the master bathroom.  Crazy, huh?

The kitchen, I understand.  The food is there.

The living and den?  Absolutely, this is where the most comfortable seating is.  And the TV and music.

The deck / back porch?  Yes, this is where the smokers congregate and everyone else goes for a little fresh air.  Perhaps a keg sits there too.

The game room is obvious.  This is where the games are.  A pool table, a dart board, a stereo, a TV.  Any number of entertaining activities awaits partiers in the game room.

But the master bathroom?

A couple of hours or so into the party, and a few drinks heavier, nature called.  So I made my way to one of the house’s many bathrooms.  It was occupied, so was the next one.  Finally, I was directed to the master bathroom.  The bathroom was huge with the amenities we’re all used to … sink, toilet (albeit in a separate little room), tub, linen closet, medicine cabinet.  It was tastefully decorated with candles and various “chick acoutrements” … and a chair.

But not just any chair, this was a nice comfy chair.  A chair Archie Bunker would have flipped out for.

This “bathroom chair” was a rich burgundy leather job with enough padding to make a Charmin commercial jealous.

I couldn’t get over the presence of this chair.  Or the three women stationed around it.  The chair was the centerpiece of the bathroom and it took a minute before the women realized I was actually there to use the facilities, not to join their party.

After my business was concluded, I left with the urge to understand my discovery.

A comfy chair in the bathroom?

When I asked my buddy about his chair, he shrugged and rolled his eyes.  “Don’t ask me,” he said, then offered me another drink.

I immediately understood.  It’s a chick thing.  It’s the female equivalent of the “lounge,” that mysterious room that exists alongside certain semi-public women’s restrooms.

Yeah, that’s it.  I know I’m right.  But it still blows me away … a chair in the bathroom?  What’s next, a bookshelf?  Hey, wait a minute …