I never used to be the kind of girl that could only do her business in certain potties. As far as I was concerned, toilets were there to be used, so one should use them as required.
I have gone in all manner of potties, including the port-a variety. I even had to use the potty while at Dyke March. Not knowing any better, I assumed that the park facility would be in better shape than the port-o-let down the hill. There was a fair line, and I stood there squirming. I should have known there was a problem when the big butch dyke with the flames tattooed on her head came out sweating and wiping her brow. Nobody who went in, however, felt the need to warn those of us still waiting. I guess the going philosophy was "if I had to, so do you". Not that a warning would have helped me. By the time I realized something was probably seriously wrong, I could not have made it down the hill and into a port-o-let without soiling my pants. So I was stuck. Once inside the bathroom I discovered that the toilet had probably stopped flushing a good 40 minutes before hand. This did not, however, stop it from being used by all of those in line ahead of me. The floor was probably an inch thick with wet and muck, and the toilet was filled to the brim. But I had to go. Oh, yeah. And change my tampon. So I hitched my pants up as high as they would go and hovered. What else was I to do?
There is, by the way, much to be said about the Diva Cup. Not the least of which is - Hi! - that you can go, easily, 8 hours without having to change/dump your cup. Huzzah!
Then I married a woman who would only use a public restroom under the direst of emergencies. She has been known to go an entire day without using the restroom, just to spare herself having to use a public toilet. They're gross, says she.
It took nearly three years for her potty-paranoid ways to really start to affect me. While certain public restrooms are ok, others are not. I have scurried off to the potty in dire stress, only to have my body decide, upon sitting, that no, really, it could wait.
While work restrooms are "safe", going to all day training classes will screw me up because training restrooms are not. I refuse to use the potties provided by our local public transit (but that's just common sense). Some restaurant potties are ok, but others are not. Even the potties in the homes of friends and loved ones are generally not ok.
I have no idea where we get this potty paranoia. As I say, I was never like this, as my mother was never particularly potty paranoid. My son, however, will only do his business at home. Generally, potties are reasonably sanitary. While science has shown that germs abound in the average public potty, it has also shown that you are no more likely to catch anything in the potty than you are in public in general. In fact, there is even an infamous study done that concluded that a fast food ice dispenser is germier than the toilet water. Mmmmm..... Nice!
What I do not understand, though, are the sprayers. Because there is no good cause for a toilet seat in a women's restroom to have urine on it. Ah, but you lovely ladies who believe that it's safer to hover than to just put down a toilet cover and sit. Do you have any idea how much cleaner the toilet is before you've sprayed your hover urine all over it? Could you please at least clean it up so that I can blissfully pretend it was never there in the first place?
Just like I blissfully pretend my ice came from a crystal stream in the rocky mountains.