False Finishes

A couple of days ago I wrote about peeing, the difficulties of writing one's name in the snow. One thing I forgot to mention is that even if my “handwriting” is difficult to control, there is quite a feeling of empowerment.

Think about it: There's 3 feet of snow, enough to stop cars in their tracks, cancel school and work days, freeze pipes (more on that tomorrow) and otherwise cause havoc untold across the land. Yet you, little ol' you (or in my case, not so little), are able to beat back this snow with a thrust, melt it on contact like so many Wicked Witches of the West. Tell me that's not cool.

I'll tell you what isn't cool about peeing: sealing the deal. Being male, I have been able to pee standing up pretty much since I could stand. It's never really been a problem. Early on I learned about “False Finish,” a phenomenon all guys are familiar with. This is when you the stream ends and you think you think you're done, only to be attacked by a last gaps reserve force. Many a male has forgotten about “False Finish,” only to discover almost immediately the problem. (Unlike most customer surveys, you pretty much get instant feedback on whether you've put the car into the garage a little too soon. And while I'm on the subject, not a woman here is allowed to go “Ewwwwwwwww!” Know why? 'Cause I've done laundry for you ladies, and no amount of “False Finish” fatalities can come close to comparing to the dastardly discolored discharge you all bring to the party.)

Lately, though, False Finish has not been my only problem. It seems that the older I get (and maybe this is a factor), the less confident I can be that I've really “gotten it all out there.” There I'll be, standing, minding my own business (literally), get through the first act, allow for False Finish, and go through the final little “Shake Shake Shake” dance, only to find, that much like just like a late-night infomercial, there's more!

Where is it all coming from?

It seems like now I have to go through several False Finishes, and sometimes even have to resort to a Cautionary Tissue Wipe . What am I, a chick? (Note: I have no actual idea how girls generally pee, not being one of those types, but if late night stand-up comedians have taught me nothing else, it is that women use roughly a tree and a half to clean up a simple #1. If this is wrong, some brave lass leave the real scoop in the comments, and if it is right, perhaps you'd be so kind as to explain why.)

I've heard this might be something prostate related, which can't be good, seeing as how I'm only 30. I remember having a flat-mate once who was in his 50s, and privately snickering how he had to pee four or five times a night. But dammit if I haven't joined his ranks. Rare is the night (or in my case, early morning, or possibly late afternoon), where a couple of privy pit-stops do not take place. If this is all prostate related, the future does not look bright.



Up next in the Pee Chronicles: What to do when you can't flush