The Big Ideas of 2013

The End of Men

Peak Masculinity.

After years of hand sanitizer, hotel suites and shimmering porcelain, releasing anywhere other than a hand-crafted Italian basin seemed rude, disrespectful, inhuman. Growing up I'd been taught that the essence of humanity was about shedding this animal skin. And though no one ever said it out loud, I knew from a very young age that there was something blasphemous about my piss.

Over time I learned to push the disturbing biological reminders farther and farther from my consciousness. I ran the tap to hide the sound. I stopped looking into the bowl to see if it was yellow or clear. I outfitted the house with the best fans. I insisted on calling the restrooms. I excused myself to the restroom quietly in social occasions, eventually dropping the restroom altogether and just went with "excuse me." I sat down to piss.

Then I met these men from the suburbs. Friends of friends. They joined me at an upscale lakeside retreat. soft roughing it I called it – the elements of the wild with the amenities of home. The restrooms were the best I'd ever experienced. Spaces as large as bedrooms. Basins like small baths. Exquisite. Almost artistic. Complete and total disguises.

But these friends of friends didn't share the same appreciation. In fact they barely noticed the restroom except to comment on the power of the basin's flush. They preferred to pull out their dicks in the middle of the gravel driveway and piss. They often did this in mid-sentence while talking to each other – without even so much as a pause.

Imagine it. Holding their dicks. Laughing. Making eye contact. Shaking the last droplets out of the end. They would zip their trousers in stride as they returned to whatever it was they were doing.

It wasn't long before they stopped using the toilets to piss altogether. Even in the dark of night, they'd stumble across the room banging their knees, tripping over haphazardly strewn shoes and clothing, to unlatch the front door so they could release barefoot under the night sky. Sometimes they'd dribble on their own feet, smiling as the warm urine cut through the damp lakeside air on their skin. I watched from the kitchen one evening as they chuckled to themselves, rubbing the tops of their wet feet on the back of their trousers. God I wanted that.

One day, instead of discretely turning my head and moving to the side, I stood beside them as they pissed together on the driveway. "How come you never piss outside?" one of them asked. I stared blankly at the streams of urine flowing from the large dark puddles of piss. It didn't seem to matter to them either way. They carried on with their conversation. Maybe it was just an idle curiosity. And I couldn't answer because I didn't know why.

27 comments on the article “The End of Men”

Displaying 21 - 27 of 27

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Sheller

Well you can always try just not flushing the toilet right :\ Didn't you ever hear of "if it's brown flush it down / if it's yellow let it mellow"??

Pappy

The point is that the narrator of the story is so involved with material that he has denied his existence as an organism of Earth, an animal in this dirt covered rock. The author simply used pissing as an avenue for the topic because it is biting and rare. The same point could be had using 'microwaves versus bonfires', but that approach has been done over and over. Good story, but some other than the choir should read it.

Guywalker

Reads more like an introduction to an even less hopeful piece. Actually, it reads more like a confused teenager, wondering what his pubic hair means, "the other guys in the shower had hair around their private parts, I couldn't believe they were showering together". The title intrigued me, but it was kinda sad to read.

Tom Terrific

I understand the metaphor - and the feeling - of pissing at will. I think its a westworld thing. I grew up in Japan and it was not unusual to see a city bus stop at the side of the street and an old man step off the bus, pee into an irrigation ditch and then get back on the bus!

Only recently I discovered the pleasure of peeing in the shower. Seriously! Until I was in my 50s I had NEVER peed in the shower. I think it was an extension of my early training against peeing in the public pool. But now I look forward to peeing in the shower and unlike peeing outside it is something even women can do.

Now everyone say it with me. . .Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. . . .

Anonymous

Those who complain about this story have been in the city for too long. Preach the naturalist Suzuki bullshit without ever having lived the reality.

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