Bathroom banter.

Have you ever walked in on someone while they were on the toilet or naked, and then taken a bit too long to walk out so that it remains awkward forever? It was clearly unintentional but ‘the linger’ suggests otherwise, and so the next time you see the person, you talk far too fast and reveal more than you should, often commenting on some aspect of their anatomy e.g.

‘My assignment was so hung...I mean, hard’ (apologies for the amount of innuendo!)

‘The chicken breasts were really pert. Pardon me, tender’

Now that I have adequately painted a picture, imagine how much worse it gets when you have a bath with someone. This has happened to me before. It was beyond my control. A few friends have suggested that had I gone to church that day, my resolve would have been stronger. I disagree. I think the stars were in a lathery alignment; there was no escaping ‘the bath’, as it shall now be referred to.

I remember the day oh so clearly. It was boxing day, and I should have stayed at home and looked for presents to unwrap. Unfortunately, I let my fling (let’s call him Lake Alfred, Alfie for short) convince me that an afternoon coffee was a pleasant alternative. Given that Alfie and I had never been really intimate, other than teenage ‘making out’, I was rather relaxed about the whole affair. In my mind, we would actually have coffee, a kiss and a cuddle, and I would return home. I arrived at our rendez-vous, which happened to be Alfie’s apartment. Error number 1. Alfie let me in, his delightful naked self wrapped in the smallest towel ever. Clearly I had driven to his abode far too fast. Error number 2. I gingerly entered the apartment, warning bells going off everywhere, even in my toes.

Alfie: Sorry darling, I’ve only just got back from training and haven’t had a shower. I was just about to have a bath.

Me: Oh lovely. I’ll wait. Take your time. (Being too available: error number 3).

Alfie: Excellent. Actually, rather than rush, why don’t you join me?

Oh so many bells were ringing, my mind sounded like an English cathedral at high noon!

Me: Eeeeeeer... (My sheepish self is more attractive than it sounds).

He disappeared into the bathroom. I stood there for about 10 seconds, and then asked for a chair. Error number 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8. I sat on the chair that materialised from thin air, chatting incessantly before being rudely interrupted by Alfie laughing.

Alfie: Babe, you really are the cutest thing when you’re nervous. Do you mind giving me a back rub?

Me: I guess not. Error 9...what is wrong with me?!

I dried the edge of the bath with a towel, sat down and swang my legs into the bath – error 10. I was obviously wearing a dress (error 0...1 has already been taken up).

Alfie: Your dress will get wet. Come on, join me.

Countless errors happened at this point, and next thing I knew, I was stripping, he was watching me. Then as if it had a mind of it's own, my big old butt approximated the seat and my legs swung themselves into the water. I was now seated in the bath, taking advice from Carrie (SATC) in my head, and trying to be ‘cool with it’. Let’s round up the error count to 50.

So Alfie and I chatted, and not much else, for about an hour. I got dressed, burnt myself with an espresso, and drove back home, laughing and shaking my head the whole way. We are no longer seeing each other, for which I blame the bath and myself entirely, given the rather impressive error count notched up. The worst part is because we never slept together and a bath is fairly uncharted fling category, things are incredibly awkward. Every time we meet, it feels as though we both turned up to an Adam and Eve themed party in our birthday suits, and no one else did. It has also taken me about 2 years to enjoy a bath again, alone of course.

My advice to all strugglers out there: make sure you have a shower at home, and if you ever find yourself thinking about a bath, you better damn well run really fast in the opposite direction, or perhaps sleep with the boy. There are 1001 rules on how to behave after such an event. With the bath, however, it’s just you, me and Carrie; mine was a disaster and Sex and the City shows that it never works: Carrie and Aidan most definitely ended.

Hey, but that's just me! Maybe you'll have better luck. May the body scrub be with you.