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.
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 …