The Luv Doc: Mutually Assured Destruction

Dear Luv Doc,

Since we married, my husband and I have maintained an “open doors” household. We don’t lock doors and we rarely even close them. This is because our first apartment was a one-bedroom and we really didn’t have a choice. If we both wanted to get to work on time we had to share the bathroom. I would pee while he was brushing his teeth. He would poop while I was in the shower. Back then I thought it was cute – well, mostly. Fast-forward 10 years and we have a large, three-bedroom house with three boys, and all of them are constantly coming in and out of the bathroom with no regard for my state of undress or what I am doing. Last week I finally had enough and told all of them – my husband included – that from now on I would be locking the door when I am in the bathroom. My husband looked genuinely shocked and later, when we were alone, he looked at me all sad and said, “But how can I poop when you’re in the shower?” I told him I would think about it, because we do have the largest bathroom in the house, but to be perfectly honest, I have grown annoyed with him going No. 2 while I am in the shower. I feel like I should have one place in the house where I can have some peace and quiet and not be disturbed. He says it’s unfair to make him share bathrooms with the boys. I said it’s not all the time, just when I am in our bathroom. Do you think it’s unfair of me to break our (unspoken) agreement? I don’t have the heart to tell his poops can be really stinky sometimes.

 – In Need of Some Time Alone

Every once in a while I get a question like this that absolutely demolishes my sense of reality. Now, granted, I have been lucky enough to have never been in the military, served time in prison, or lived in a box under the interstate, so the idea of pooping in front of someone, even if that someone is my ride-or-die soul mate, is a bit of a non-starter to me – and by that I mean I don’t think I could actually go. In fact, I think I might die of constipation as a result. That’s a thing, right? I’m pretty sure that’s how Elvis died. His 21-year-old girlfriend claimed that when she found him, he was already dead, slumped over in front of the toilet with his pajamas around his ankles, but maybe ... just maybe ... she was forcing him to poop while she watched. Being an ex-groupie, it’s entirely possible that she thought watching Elvis poop was cute. A depraved Lyndon Baines Johnson scenario like that was probably far beyond the imagination of your average Tennessee coroner, so naturally barbiturates took the rap. That’s a solid call too. Nothing locks up your lower GI like tranquilizers. If it weren’t for that nasty little side effect, the Sackler family might be richer than Bezos. I can’t speak for Elvis, but I know I personally would need a handful of tranquilizers to be able to poop in front of anyone – much less a fawning 21-year-old groupie girlfriend, so I am willing to give The King a pass.

Life is filled with little ironies like that, isn’t it? One day you’re a fresh-faced newlywed lathering up your hooters in the shower while just a few feet away the man of your dreams is dropping a delightfully adorable deuce. Smash cut to a decade later and you want to turn your master bath into a fortified safe room. I get it. Too many kids, too many curries. It all adds up. Everyone has their limits. Speaking of, it sounds like you haven’t exactly been testing your husband’s limits in this regard, which is a pretty bum deal if you ask me. Peeing is one thing, but showerside pooping seems like the exact type of situation where mutually assured destruction is imperative. If your husband is the only one doing the pooping, that’s borderline abusive if you ask me. One of the things that made LBJ’s open-door, aide-abusing shitter sessions so diabolical was that he was the only one doing the shitting – and it’s no secret that LBJ knew a thing or two about mutually assured destruction. Whether it’s the aftermath of nuclear weapons or Matt’s El Rancho chile rellenos, nobody wins.

Now, I could be wrong and you may be getting ample payback, but even if you are, I believe this is an unholy and untenable arrangement. I say: Bathroom locks for everybody! As for your pouty husband, kindly inform him that the hallmark of Western civilization is our ability to hold it, even if it means dying keeled over on the floor with our pajamas around our ankles.