Do Guys Wash Their Hands After They Pee?

About 10 years ago, I went on a date with a guy I met online.  We had planned dinner and a movie.  We had been chatting online for over a week and had talked on the phone a couple of times.  He seemed like a stand up guy and I would be taking my own car so I had no safety concerns. 

We met at Tony Romas by Polo Park as we are going to watch a movie at Silver City afterwards.  While we were devouring the appetizer, the onion tower (which I highly recommend), I decided we didn't have a future.  He seemed to have a little bit of a short fuse. He had some strong opinions about things that I didn't think warranted strong opinions. Also, he ate about 75% of the onion tower.  Now, I realize that based on my size, I obviously don't need the calories, but that is beside the point.  On a first date, you are trying to impress, he should have at least shown some restraint and only ate 50% of the appetizer.  

Anyway, our entrees arrived.  I don't remember what I ate but I know he had the ribs.  A few minutes later, he had bbq sauce all over his face.  

This was a classic Glamour Sticky Situation of the Month.  When I was in my 20s, I knew precisely when Glamour Mag was on the news stand.  (You see most people would call it Glamour Magazine, but I was a die-hard, so I refer to it as Glamour Mag.)  I read it cover to cover and based many life decisions at the time on advice I got in Glamour Mag.  Important life decisions, of course, like what type of haircut to get, things like that.  My favorite feature was "Glamour Sticky Situation of the Month".  It would give a real life situation that many of us were likely to encounter and give several options of how to respond and then tell us which one was best.  When I said, "I have a Glamour Sticky Situation of the Month" to a group of friends, I had their attention and their advice.  Once Glamour Mag discontinued that feature, I had no further use for the magazine.  

Anyway, so I was debating whether to tell this guy about the bbq sauce.  On one hand, it was perfectly natural to get bbq sauce all over your face while at Tony Romas and if I had sauce all over my face, I would want to be told.  On the other hand, he had already shown a little bit of a short fuse and I didn't want him to think that I was just trying to embarrass him.  

So, I was taking two seconds to process this information, he saved me.  He got up and said he was going to use the washroom.  Phew.  Sticky situation resolved.  He would go to the bathroom and then wash his hands.  When he washed his hands, he would look in the mirror and see the bbq sauce and would wash it off.  Perfect.   

But, then he came back with the bbq sauce exactly the same.  Then, I looked at his plate.  He had finished the ribs.  He wasn't going to get any more sauce on his face.  This was a worse dilemma.  If I pointed out the bbq sauce now, he would know that it was on his face from before he went to the washroom and that would mean I knew that he didn't wash his hands.  Not only that, but, ewwww, he didn't wash his hands.  So, then I wondered do guys wash their hands after they pee?   Maybe not since they don't actually touch urine.  But, in a public restroom, wouldn't you want to wash your hands anyway?  This was a lot to process.  

Then, he asked if I wanted to share a dessert.  I told him I was fine, but he should go ahead and order dessert for himself.  I really wanted dessert but I didn't want to share with someone who didn't wash their hands.  

While we were waiting for his dessert to come, I said I was going to the washroom and joked that I was going to check to make sure that I didn't have bbq sauce all over my face.  He chuckled at my humour.  It wasn't meant to be funny, you idiot, it was meant to give you a hint!

I went to the washroom and washed my hands.  I didn't have any bbq sauce on my face.  I thought perhaps there wasn't a mirror over the sink in the men's washroom.  I stood outside the men's washroom until someone came out.  I asked the man if there was a mirror above the sinks.  He indicated there was and then I asked if he typically washed his hands after he urinated.  He walked away without answering.  

I returned to my table.  Not only was the bbq sauce still there, but there was also chocolate brownie and ice cream mixed in.  And, then he excused himself again to go to the washroom.  

The check came while he was in the bathroom.  There was no way that I was going to pay the whole cheque.  He came back with the same dirty face.  We split the cheque and left.  Even the waitress tried to give him a signal to wash his face, but he didn't get it.  I didn't think I could say anything now.  I was in too deep.  

I had another idea.  I was going to follow him in his car to the movie parking lot.  I deliberately didn't put my lights on.  I thought he would see that in his rear view mirror and might also get a view of his face.  That didn't work.  I drove without my lights on.  I was actually hoping the police would stop me.  I would tell the story and then the police officer could go tell this guy about the face.  

I parked and went in the theatre.  He had already bought his ticket, meaning he wasn't going to buy mine for me.  Yes, a real winner.  

Then, he excused himself to go to the washroom.  Third times a charm?  Apparently not.  

We watched the movie and about half way through, he excused himself to go to the washroom.  Again, I'm not an expert on the male urinary tract, however, this was four times in a couple of hours.  That is a lot for a guy.  I now suspected that the 75% of the onion tower that he ate was going through him pretty fast.  So, I had to assume atleast one of the trips to the bathroom involved more than just peeing.  He came back from the fourth time with the same dirty face.  Again, and I can't emphasize this enough, ewwwwww. 

He walked me to my car and leaned in for a good-night kiss and I extended my hand.  He shook my hand and I stopped at the nearest gas station to use the washroom and wash my hands, twice.  

Many years have passed.  We are still facebook friends.  I am happy with my sweetie.  He seems deliriously happy with someone else.  I'm always happy when anyone is happy.  And, every now and then, he writes a passive aggressive comment on my wall about something or another.  I go get some hand santizer and use them to keep my fingers busy.  Otherwise, I might be tempted to type, yeah, well, atleast I wash my hands after going to the washroom.