Warm Toilet Seats by Teddy Nutmeg

Teddy wrote this long-ass article back in 2002 (2003?) but since Bathroom Bonanza Part II was recently shelved - to the dismay of at least two readers - we're unearthing this gem and now calling it "The Lost Part II of Bathroom Bonanza." It was also featured on a site called PoopReport.com. I kid you not. (How could I make that up?) -KV


WARM TOILET SEATS (The Lost Part II of Bathroom Bonanza)
by Teddy Nutmeg

Teddy Nutmeg here, with another serious topic for discussion; the warm toilet seat. I hate warm toilet seats. In fact, there is perhaps no more repulsive a feeling in the world to me than a warm toilet seat. Now this may seem strong, but let's take a minute to explore the phenomena of a warm toilet seat, and you will soon understand.

To get behind the root of my hatred of warm toilet seats, we must first examine the reason behind the warmth; how did that particular toilet seat get warm? To be blunt, another man’s ass-warmth warmed up that toilet seat.

Yes, it’s the only explanation. Another man came into the toilet stall, pulled down his pants and undies, and sat his bare ass on the toilet seat while he did the deed. While he sat, his warm ass heated up the plastic of the toilet seat.

Now, this happens in every public bathroom in the world, and this is not what I hate. What I hate is when I lay my bare buttocks on a toilet seat, I can feel the heat from another man’s ass on my ass.

But a warm toilet seat means more than just another man sat there and shat. It means that another man sat on that toilet seat and shat RECENTLY, not long enough in the past for the warmth to dissipate, and this is straight-up nasty. I mean, the toilet stall is perhaps the most private space one can imagine; you don’t even share it with a lover like a bedroom or the backseat of a 77 Chevy. It's all you and just you in there. A warm toilet seat reminds me that there was another man (not just another person, another MAN) with his pants down, in that same spot as I currently am with my pants down, and that I can feel his physical warmth, those excited little electrons, being transferred from his ass to the seat to my bare bottom. Its like psychological rape; I don’t want those excited electrons on my ass, but I can’t stop them either. When I sit on a toilet seat and it is warm, I immediately conjure up a picture of a bare assed man and myself standing back to back, touching asses. Ewww.

Now, I realize how this sounds, and I must say that I am not homophobic in the least. Trust me. I lived in Hillcrest for two years. If you know San Diego, you know what I mean. If you don’t know San Diego, Hillcrest is like West Hollywood. If you don’t know LA enough to know what West Hollywood means, well, you’re just hopeless.

I have the same aversion to my own toilet seat after women have used it; I’ll unwittingly sit down on my own toilet seat, realize its warm, and realize that the only other person who could’ve used it is my female roommate. I don’t want to touch bare asses with her. Ewwww.

I must admit that there is one instance when I don’t mind a warm toilet seat; when I visit my parents’ house and use their toilets. My ass doesn’t seem to mind the warmth if it knows the warmth is from a family member or close family friend. I don’t even have to know who specifically used the toilet seat (although by the smell I can usually tell if it was brother, sister, mother or father) to feel comfortable. Ironically, its kind of nice having a warm and friendly toilet seat, as opposed to a shockingly cold one, when I’m at my parents’ house.

It's not that I want to touch bare asses with any of my family members, but the idea isn’t as repulsive as touching BA’s with anyone else. Maybe since we share genes I am somehow not repulsed by their bodies. We have all gone naked in the hot tub before, just the fam. But that’s another article.

And my aversion to warm toilet seats does not stem from worries over cleanliness, either. I do not use the “disposable cowboy hats” as I heard them referred to in Dallas. I simply find them too much a hassle. I do, however, take a square of TP and wipe the seat off every time before I sit on it. But its not ass-germs that make the warm toilet seat so disgusting; if it were, I’d probably hate all public bathrooms. As I’ve said before, it’s the idea of butt-kissing another man that the warm toilet seat represents.

Now, I do check toilet seats with the back of my hand before sitting on them, to avoid an uncomfortably warm surprise, and there are several levels of warmth. There’s the slightly warm, “maybe I’m just imagining this” seat which on which I don’t hesitate to plop my bottom. No problem there. There’s the “kind of warm, probably a solid 15 minutes ago” seat that I sit on but mentally note my opposition. Also not too bad. There’s the “definitely warm and less than 10 minutes ago there was a bum on this seat – how bad do I have to go?” seat which I make an effort to avoid, using other stalls or just holding it if possible.

Then there’s the hotseat, the “holy shit this seat is burning my hand, I can practically smell the fumes still dispersing and I don’t think I’m just imagining that that little droplet is ass sweat still on the seat.” This level of warmth is utterly unbearable and thankfully quite rare, and when I encounter this I invariably scan my memory for men coming out of the restroom as I was entering, or even men walking down the hall. Was it the guy with the black pinstriped suit and red silk tie who works in suite 304? Or was it Bob, the fat guy who handles claims?

Once or twice I’ve been in a rush and forgotten to check the seat and I have sat down on what felt like a moist hotplate and I almost threw up. Seriously. As I sat there my own body temperature started to rise as a result of the extreme heat radiating upward through my buttocks, and I began to sweat and if something wasn’t coming out of my posterior it would’ve been coming out my anterior. Maybe it was just the stress and utter repulsion at squishing my buttocks onto a warm seat. The only thing I can compare it to is when I was sitting in the grass at a park one day and I reached out my hand to support myself and it smooshed right into a soft pile of dog poo.

And so I urge you, gentle reader, (if anyone is reading this, please comment with your own dealings with warm toilet seats) check the seat with the back of your hand BEFORE you sit on it. And if its warm, think about a stranger’s bare booty, contemplate the warmth of the toilet seat and the warmth of that bare booty, examine your gut reaction to it, and by all means, wash your dirty ass when you get home.

-TN