Bathrooms

Bathrooms assume a particular kind of respite, especially on bad dates and gatherings of the wedding and baby variety. For the former, you slip away just long enough to remind yourself that this is only a date and you’re not tattooing the person’s name on your bicep. The latter requires longer, more frequent breaks. Public gift opening is prime for this. Is there a greater social pain than a person conjuring equal excitement for a spatula and dish towels as the KitchenAid mixer and flax linen sheet set? 

You leave the chicken salad, the deviled eggs, the out of season strawberries, shut the bathroom door and breathe. More than once you find child’s pose on a stranger’s bath mat. Sometimes in a bridesmaids dress. 

You talk yourself into another hour. You return to the group and eat all the olives.