Curse of the Bidet
My butt would like a word
I hate pooping in coffee shops. This is notable because coffee shops are generally one of the best public places to drop a deuce, thanks to their characteristically private accommodations.
If you’ve spent enough time in coffee shops, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Many seem to have a toilet hidden in a labyrinth of hallways that you’d only find by asking a barista for its location. And if that’s not the case, single-stall or two-stall bathrooms are often the norm, equipped with loud fans and a discreet toilet plunger placed off to the side.
It’s a far cry from office, airport, or restaurant bathrooms, which are claustrophobic at best and neglected at worst.
What’s changed my opinion about coffee shop poops has nothing to do with the bathrooms themselves, but rather how my own bathroom at home has completely ruined my expectations for taking a dump.
Sometime last year, we got our first bidet. It was the $130 Tushy classic, an entry-level model for the bidet-curious. Originally, I wasn’t keen on the idea of blasting cold water at my butthole, but over time it’s been a game-changer. We go through less toilet paper, and I feel way more clean down there, akin to having just dried off after a shower.
But the times I appreciate my bidet the most are when I don’t have access to it. Lack of a cool butt rinse makes even the most secluded, comfortable bathrooms miserable to poop in.
Most recently, I had to go through a painfully long time without a bidet when visiting New York City last month. It was hot out, I was eating things I don’t normally eat, and I wasn’t sleeping well — which is a recipe for tummy trouble. Boy, did I wish I had something more substantial than one-ply hotel bathroom toilet paper at my disposal.
It’s times like these when I just do not understand why public bidets (or at least semi-private ones, like in offices or hotels) are not a thing in the US. Are we simply being conned by Big Toilet Paper? Do people really not understand that there’s a better way to wipe than scraping your ass with dry trees until you’re acceptably clean enough to put your pants back on?
Instead of choosing the path of the accessible butt shower, somehow this country has opted to make pooping an even messier task than it has to be. If I were president, I’d make it illegal to build a bathroom without a bidet. Or I’d at least send everyone a portable bidet so they could poop in peace wherever they went.
Honestly, now that I think about it — maybe it’s just me who needs a portable bidet. Maybe I’ve spent all this time complaining about a giant cultural problem when there’s a simple, individualized solution that could alleviate my suffering. (Ah, the American way, amirite?)
As for the rest of you, I’m wondering if I should even encourage you to get a bidet at home. On one hand, it’ll change your life — you’ll feel cleaner and more refreshed after every poop. On the other hand, it will forever ruin your experience of going #2 in any restroom that isn’t your own.
It’s a curse, I tell you! A blessed curse!