As I open the door, I am greeted by an old friend. I can’t help but smile at the familiar face as I shut the door behind me and hang my windbreaker on the hook so generously provided. I settle in, and an immediate air of peaceful tranquility washes over my entire self.

The atrocities that have befallen this place are no doubt countless, and yet, the cool gray walls coax my mind into letting that thought slip away. Serenity begins to descend.

Is that the shocking cold of a lonely bowl starting to fade beneath me? Yes, it is. Like a memory-foam pillow, the porcelain horseshoe gripping my cheeks adjusts to my body’s warmth and retains it like a heavily insulated mitten.

I cast my gaze downwards towards the bunched up pants and sneakers around my feet. Bits of glitter, toilet paper and lint litter the floor, breaking up what would be the monotonous uniformity of tiled flooring. There’s so much to see, so much to look at; a muddy footprint here, a stray pubic hair there. My eyes struggle to retain a singular focus. I take a deep breath. Counting that seemingly infinite expanse of tiles is mesmerizing, isn’t it? Like being induced into a state of hypnosis, I find myself falling deeper and deeper into the daze. I look up at my phone, and 20 minutes have passed.

Ask me if I care.

I don’t.

Ah, another flush from somewhere else in the building’s plumbing system. I find repose in knowing I am connected to at least one other soul in this ataractic experience. I can hear the water surge through the pipes like the intense energy pulsing through my veins. This is my happy place.

I am who I am today because of my 19 years of experience in public bathrooms. The way I identify can be traced back to the very first stall that coddled me within its caring walls. We laughed, we cried, but ultimately I did what I had to do and got out. That was a mistake I promised myself I would only make once. I won’t ever forget its gentle embrace.

There’s something that’s been weighing down on me that I haven’t ever found the right words to say. The timing has just never felt right, and so I haven’t told a single soul about how I feel inside. I’m sure some of you might have known, assumed, guessed or laughed about the possibility, but I want to finally set the record straight. I don’t expect everyone’s support, nor would I be offended by any friends of mine who are put off by my way of life.

But dammit I finally feel like I have the strength to say it and I just cannot let the moment pass.

I pee sitting down.

And I’ve never been prouder.