Dear Bliss,
Please shed some light on the ancient mystery.

     "In the middle of the night, you hear her ass hit the water in the toilet bowl."

Her eyes were open when she got out of bed, RIGHT??  And her eyes were open when she entered the bathroom, RIGHT??  WHY DID SHE SUDDENLY CLOSE THEM BEFORE SHE SAT DOWN??  I don't get it.  Is there some arcane female phobia we guys need to know about? 

John
 

Here is my chance to make a difference.  I will enlighten this poor male soul.

Dear John,
Man oh man!  I MUST straighten you out. Toilet seats to johns... oops, I suppose you are sensitive to that word.  Toilet seats to commodes that are in dwellings containing male and female residents (who engage in coupling) should always remain in the DOWN position.  There is a very GOOD reason for this.  The reason is sex.  If men want sex... they make nice and put the seat down.  Simple as that!  Nothing to explain.

You might think it's a little thing... but women talk about these things.  Oh, they talk about them at wedding and baby showers, in the break room, before class, in the locker room at the gym.  They either whine or brag about their men.  They do.  Now wouldn't you want your woman saying  "Well John, AKA  the Prince of Pump,  always puts the seat down for me. He's so considerate.  Golly.  I think I'll go home and nail him right now."  Isn't that reason enough to put the seat down?  NUF SAID.
 

But it wasn't what he was looking for...

Dear Bliss,
Let's phrase this diplomatically . . . women are great; I couldn't live without them.  I don't think it's worth asking why they require the toilet seat down.  I don't ask.  I never met a woman who actually fell in, but if  leaving it down is what it takes to make em happy, I figure it's a small price to pay.  And yet some of  them DO fall in!  HILARIOUS!!!  It's a Darwin award!  I hoped you would enlighten me how they manage to do it.  Do you follow?  At the risk of being redundant, yes, they do have a right to ask me to leave it down.

I figured the porcelain topic was dead and chatted about other things.  But in the next email he said...

I'm still looking forward to your porcelain wisdom

So I wrote him a little story to illustrate...
 
 

        Jane wakes slowly.  She was having the best dream.  Fabio was fumbling with her bra hooks like an amateur.  She forgave him because he looked so nice wearing that hard hat, tool belt and nothing else.  Her dreamy smile faded as she realized her bladder had interrupted her night musings.  Dang diet coke.  So still half asleep, she stumbles into the bathroom.  She's made this trip so often, there is no need for a light. Like Helen Keller, she can find it in the dark.
        Jane reaches her destination.  Up goes the nightie.  Down goes the panties.  In a modified grande plie, she squats towards the seat.  Only tonight, she suddenly realizes her squat is taking longer than expected.  First she feels an icy cold smoothness in the bends of her knees.  Losing her balance, her ass is plunged into the bowl.  The cold water takes her breath.  Fully awake, she can now only hope who ever used the toilet last flushed.

        (Now for the violence)

        Jane runs  herself a warm bath.  The few inches of water are enough to get washed up.  She dries herself off.  Without bothering to dress, she grabs the plunger.  With only the light from the bathroom door leading the way, she finds that sleeping, snoring lump in her bed.  She shoves Lumpy from his side to his back.  He wakes with a start as she straddles him.  As he manages to utter "What the..." Jane shoves the plunger over his mouth and nose and pushes with all her might.  Ole Lumpy put up quite battle, but there is something about a frosty tush dunking that gives a woman strength beyond her natural abilities.
        Yes, Jane had done murder.  But it was fortunate for her that she had a female judge.  Her honor agreed that Lumpy deserved to die.  Banging the gavel to end the proceedings she said, "Let this be a lesson to all men everywhere.  You always put the damn seat down."

MEOW.

The response:

You ever write for dough?  Damn, I am impressed.

See, we're not going where I thought we were.  I just wanted to flirt a little, but now it's impossible to ignore your gift.  It is big.  I believe success is basically going to stalk you and jump you and pump you whether you want it to or not.  Your story delivers the spectrum of human pathos in four tragic, heart rending paragraphs.  It has everything -- Fabio, Helen Keller, panties, ballet, plumbing, death, and absolution.  Jesus what more could a guy ask for . . . if the story isn't factual, it deserves to be.  BUT did Mr. Lump have to die?  I am sure the jurists and ethicists will be debating that one for decades.

So Blissley, why DO women in fact fall into the toilet?

This guy is one tough BM  (baffled male)  And he has never watched JUDGE JUDY!

Look John,

They fall in because some male left the seat up.  I will never admit that women fall in because they don't look...  so get over it.

Then I received an email entitled " A Changed Man."

Bliss,

No, they don't look, but that doesn't explain anything.  What I really wanted to know was whether there is a plausible reason for not looking.  Your excellent narrative convinced me that INDEED THERE IS. 

I am a believer.  It may interest you to know that since Tuesday, I have stomped seven idiots I caught leaving the toilet seat up.  Where is their self respect?  That's what I want to know.  One of these idiots was my aunt, but I cannot make an exception.  What kind of America do we want?  Most of the others were guys in the men's room at Burger King. 

Best wishes, 
john 

PS - they told me you can visit  between 4 and 8 pm. 
 

I sleep better at night knowing that I have made the bathroom safe for another female bottom.