Heavy lifting at the urinal

I was conducting some business in the penthouse stall the other day when I heard the bathroom door open and somebody walk in. He headed over to the urinal, unzipped and then, let out an enormous sigh:


That was followed by more deep breaths and semi-grunts.

Honestly, if I hadn’t been sitting there with my pants around my ankles, I would have thought that I’d stumbled into the Olympic weightlifting competition. (Insert your own “clean and jerk” joke here.)

What the hell was going on with this guy? Is breaking out Mr. Wiggly that much of an ordeal?

Maybe the guy has a bad relationship with his wang. Perhaps the heavy breathing was his way to summon the courage to give this whole pee-pee thing one more try. “OK, little fella. I know we’ve had our trials and tribulations. But I believe in you. I want to make this work. Here we go.”

Or maybe he was just having a rough day. We’ve all been there, big guy. Sometimes when work is a major nut-punch, you just have to let it all go in an exhale. But maybe the urinal isn’t the optimal location for self-expression.

His transaction was completed before mine, so I did not lay eyes on the fellow. But he is out there, among us. And he needs a hug. Just not at the urinal.

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