Smelly Soap

There is a bottle of smelly soap in the men’s room. I’m not sure what it’s doing there, besides suffering. Most men I know will avoid the bottle of smelly soap like the plague if they have the option.

Obviously in the case of smelly soap or no soap, smelly soap always wins. That isn’t the case here. There are metal soap receptacles anchored to all the sinks, filled with the scentless soap that comes in 5 gallon drums from the janitorial supply store. This is man soap. The only better man soap is the sandy powder that you have to rub with water and pray that it will suds up before you remove all the skin from your palms. It builds character!

This sums up the men’s restroom experience to a tee. We like doing it the hard way; we want scratched mirrors, and too few paper towels. We have no need for full length mirrors, pretty flower arrangements on the sinks, or couches in the restroom. The term “restroom” means a rest from talking, thinking, or making eye contact. When we leave the restroom we have to “work” at being civil, courteous and polite.

So someone brought it in their smelly soap and left it on the sink. It screams in its bold bookman font:

“2 soaps in 1! I moisturize and nurture your skin! With a fresh lavender scent!”

Obviously the man either forgot it or was caught. Just as he was about to pocket it, someone walked in on him. He had to abandon the smelly soap to preserve his dirty secret. Much like the mini-van in the parking lot slowing draining it’s battery down to power headlights no one is using. The announcement has been made over the load speaker but no one is going to fess up. “I drive the mini-van" This is equal to saying "I use smelly soap.” This admission would be too much for him to take.

So sits the soap in the men’s restroom, subjected to sneers and ridicule only because it smells nice and has the nerve to moisturize.