I hate swimming pool bathrooms. Like, seriously.
They are always shockingly dark after you’ve been out in the sun. They are crowded with preteens. And they are always, always wet. Everything is mysteriously wet. The floor, the toilet seat, the strings of used or unused (who knows?) toilet paper on the floor. You can’t think too much about it when you are there or you’ll go crazy.
The summer Billy and I were dating, we went to a pool. It was with great trepidation and dread that I entered the bathroom.
I love Old Navy flip flops. In fact, I’ve owned the same pair for probably a gazillion years and they are perfectly worn in. They also have very little traction left. You might see where this is going…
On our date, I walked into the bathroom and promptly did a cartoon running man slip, nearly landed in a gymnast-like split, but instead fell belly first onto the damp concrete. I froze, thoroughly disgusted.
Then, I thought, “Ewwwww! I’m belly-down in these mystery puddles!” So naturally, I flipped over onto my back.
Staring at me were two preteen girls, watching what, in reality, was now me rolling around on the bathroom floor. I ungracefully stood up, covered in what I can only pray was dirt and pool water tracked in on others’ shoes.
When I exited the restroom, Billy eyed me, covered in sludge, and just said, “What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s get in the pool.” Yes, I jumped into the pool to wash away the memories.
To this day, when I need to use a public restroom, Billy will simply call behind me, “I know you like to roll around on the floor, but be careful.” Thanks.
Have you ever embarrassed yourself on a date? Do tell.
P.S. I’ve been writing a series of posts about how my husband and I met and began dating. If you want to start from the beginning, click here. Or if you want to continue on to how he awkwardly first brings up marriage, click here.