The Art of Bathing in a Stranger’s House
The last imposition.
I’ve taken baths in the homes of countless strangers. In each case, I was welcomed into the house at large, and, by extension, granted full use of the bathroom - or so I was led to believe.
Much like vampires, Jehova’s witnesses, and extended relatives, even the most cunning guerilla bathers cannot cross the threshold of the home without express permission. I’m not some kind of roving, door-knocking pervert with a soaking fetish.
No, you won’t paint me as this bath-robed twilight prowler, grappling with a dark longing for the touch of the next unfamiliar tub.
All my waking thoughts are not overrun with the firm, voluptuous curves of that claw-footed copper number just absolutely working centre stage in my next-door neighbour’s otherwise sexless second-floor master bathroom.
You wouldn’t mind if I used the… bath-room, would you?
When it comes to strongarming my way into acquaintances’ bubblebaths, as it does, most nights, nothing was ever given to me.
On the streets of Calcutta, a wandering mystic once closed his eyes, pinched his nose and channelled a great wisdom for me. “You need to take a bath,” he coughed, backing away, “You need to take a bath.” But, what did he mean by this?
It was only years later, basking in the free-standing unit of an incensed co-worker, I understood: You can have a shower, but, good god man, you must take a bath.
At the risk of sounding like a dismissed work of Costanzian philosophy, why is:
“Do you mind if I hop in the shower?’
- a perfectly reasonable ask, no host would give a second thought.
and:
“Do you mind if I hop in the bath?”
- an indefensible violation of both the social order and the personal sanctity of a host’s living space.
The now-well-cited case of the ‘combination bath-shower’ exposes the hypocrisy mouldering away in the damp cracks of host-guest washroom relations.
Hold on, so you can’t stand a guest sitting naked in your tub, but a guest standing naked in your tub sits perfectly well with you? And suppose I lay back against that cold hard steel and hosed myself down, like a self-cleaning corpse, what then? I guess that’s fine, is it.
The true character of the bath-shower-combo brigade is revealed in their convictionless fixture choices. For Christ’s sake, either take a stand, or lay down, and shut up*.
This one simple request extends courtesy way out into uncommon territory. Believe you me, insisting on bubbles only strains the situation further. Watch the scale of the imposition burrowing away at them, just below their skin.
Yeah, you can, I guess…
Well, excuse me, for making use of the most restorative function of the restroom.
Why the moment this particular faucet gives way for the grip of a foreign toe, a visitor overstays their welcome?
I can tell you, it’s not the nudity, the hygiene or the run-time. And it’s not the candlelight, the writhing or the urine. It is that our bath is the last cradle of comfort this life offers; the only place on earth where a human being knows true peace.
But I will take that peace from you. Once I have lain with yours, it is now mine, forever.
*I’m sorry, but these spineless wishy-washers just make me fucking sick.
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"it’s not the candlelight, the writhing or the urine." I think it could be all three, actually. Bloody hilarious. Tragically relatable. Damn all inhospitable hosts, who withhold immersion therapy to their beleaguered guests!
I often think how god has tasked some of us with finding a new wrinkle , a small sliver of an offering that we give others, reminding us of things we kinda knew, but didn't. I am one of them in the arts/music etc, Sam, you are certainly one of them in the comic whimsey realm, succeeding in raising a corner of my mouth into a snicker and prompting me into comment.
Yes there is nothing new under the sun, so being new is pointless. Dusting up old thoughts and memories and reminding me where I forgot to laugh is where its at.
I liken taking a bath in foreign territory to the line being expressed in Pulp Fictions " holiest of holy's" . Sex is one thing, a foot message? well ... Shower- sex / Bath- your now a resident.
Or in Jaws, you cry barracuda, and people say humm, what? you cry shark!, and you have a panic on the 4th of July. ( something like that)
A bath in a strangers home? I cant remember if I have had one but just thinking on it conjures up way more than a cleansing routine. Perhaps its the luxury of time a bath affords you , giving room for toe clipping, daydreaming, contemplation and what not.
Way to go Sam!