My Father is an instinctual European perhaps..without the tools to understand himself along the path of butthole cleaning.
“Take a poop. Take a shower.”
He said to me as a boy. My whole breakdown of a day collapsed on itself. I take a couple to more than a couple dumps per day. You mean to tell me, that if i want to keep a clean whistle, i have to take potentially 6 showers in one day?
“Well..some may have to, but i’ve trained my body to only go if i can take a shower after.”
He said reiterating his superior, dumping powers and potential constipation. I couldn’t fathom, in a perfect world sure, i’d only poop with a shower available, but i know that’s not possible. Maybe for him, its possible, but for me, its just not possible.
My solution was the bidet, which started with a foray of doubt and fear. I nearly tried one on vacation in Puerto Rico with my Manny Fam (more on that later, I was once a Male Nanny) and it just didn’t feel right for my first time. I had to shower in their quarter of the condo we were staying in (R.I.P. Jamie V, thanks for letting us stay there, I wasn’t paying the bill but still clutch. Sad about your passing).
This bidet however was an attached bidet and the kids ran the place a muck, the bidet was covered in sand so I just didn’t have the gusto to try it at the time. I was about to shower anyway which realistically if you have a detached shower, you basically have a super bidet, but i digress. That day was not my bidet day.
That fateful day arrived months later. My friend Jay and I went to visit my cousin Ryan and his then girlfriend and now fiancée at a Air BnB up past Wilkes Barre for his birthday weekend. And this place was was the spot man, 70s feng shui to the nines, and rumor has it they have a bidet. And not just any bidet a stand alone bidet.
It was time.
I had to shower anyway, but I was still going to use it before I showered. I told everyone my plan and made my way up to the bathroom with cracked knuckles and soon a cracked b-hole at least in terms of bidet exploration. A clean frontier to explore.
The carpeted bathroom was actually so comfy man. After I imploded into the toilet, I nearly forget to bidet, but before jumping in the shower, I caught myself.
It was my time to be European and boy was I European.
Just like the girl I later would have over one night at my downtown bachelor pad who used the bathroom and shot a stream of bidet water onto the wall. I also prevailed such a rookie move. Bidet water shot up onto the carpet
I learned then, that you never try a bidet out unless you are already on the bidet. The Golden Brown Rule
I have hemmies as i call them (hemmroids) or at least I did. Then I definitely did and those hemmies burned like high heaven once that stream hit my spinchter. I felt a mix of extreme pain and a higher power enacting on my body. It wasn’t pleasure able more painful then anything, but it was something. Something, I knew I needed to address with my therapist. Just kidding, just that i needed to address the fact I have hemmies that should not be there.
I coiled off the bidet and finally understood its grand purpose: to be the showerhead when I’ve already showered.
As I mentioned before, I eventually had a downtown bachelor pad and i begged my Dad to have his plumber friend Gino to come to the pad and install the bidet. I’m handy sometimes, most often not, but surprisingly I can sometimes get shit done. Not on this occasion, because I’m not risking a security deposit fucking something up. So Gino reluctantly helped me out as I barely assisted. Gino declared never to install a bidet again, he was not enjoying it. Which is right, he’s an older man and an older American Man doesn’t need to keep their whistle clean.
After not being able to afford the apartment and returning to live with my Dad at his childhood home, and partially my childhood home after my parents divorce. I had to return to a life without a bidet.
That’s when witch hazel came into my life. Reluctantly at first, and prior when I was at my Dad’s RV stationed at Whimcycle Trail Head
https://www.whimcycletrail.com
And when you RV life, if you got a bidet, you got it made, but we didn’t have it made it that sense. We had it made in every other sense but not that one. And I experimented with the witch hazel then.
My Dad bestowing it to me like some prized heirloom while I played Mario Kart on a bean bag chair. His Master Thesis on whistle science proposed to me. I was hesitant then and not fully on board, but by the time I had no more devices and a swampy butt occurred on Willow Street in Dunmore. I made my decision to join the clan, full-stop. The Witch Hazel Clan. Clean and Eco-Friendly.
My last iteration of this blog will be dedicated to my late best bud, Samuel John Hall Barrett. He never used my bidet while living downtown and his reason why caused me to laugh harder than I have ever laughed in my life. We were talking about it and I was trying to convince him to try it, and his reasoning for not trying it, was because he didn’t want to clean of a butthole. He wanted to keep his butt “guarded” as he said to my roaring laughter. In case anyone tried to slip one in on him without his permission, he was hoping the potential hair poop straggler would deter their motives.
I miss that mother fucker and i miss those times, but I’ll never forget them. Love you Never Bidet’d in his life, Sammy Barrett.
Casually Enlightened 
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