After years of painstaking research (ie, going to the bathroom a lot), I finally feel qualified to reveal the mysteries of what exactly your boyfriend could be doing that's taking so damn long in the bathroom.

I know what you're thinking, men: like all of you, I took a blood oath never to tell anyone of "the enemy sex" about our dark bathroom secrets. Dare I betray our fraternal order? All I can offer you as answer is this kernel of undeniable truth: Guyspeak signs my checks. Sorry bros.

But hey, to make it up to you, here's what I imagine girls do in the bathroom.

0:00-0:05: Dim the lights. Light some scented candles. Put on some atmospheric techno.,
0:06-0:15: Lovingly deposit a compressed fecal pellet roughly the size, hue, and buoyancy of a clutch of robin's eggs into the waiting flotilla of rose petals.
0:16-0:17:  Beg forgiveness.
0:18-0:25: Don flushing glove. Flush. Burn flushing glove, then scrub the toilet.
0:26-0:42: A quick facial scrub, eyebrow wax, exfoliating skin peel and zesty mango-apricot ass poultice.
0:43-0:58: "Me time."
0:59-0:60: Waft out of the bathroom on a gust of lavender, reminding your boyfriend not to leave the seat up next time.

Good. Now that that's out of the way, let's get down to business. Here, for the first time ever in print, is the absolute truth about how your man spends his time on the porcelain throne.


0:00-0:08: Accomplish all the actual pooping in a serious, efficient manner. I mean really slam that thing home. Blast it.
0:09-0:15: Swab vaguely at your rear, wondering idly whether Cobra Commander from G.I. Joe talks like that because he's the Cobra Commander, or became Cobra Commander because he talks like that.
0:16-0:17: Yeah, that seems pretty wiped.
0:17-0:22: Enjoy your own stink for a few minutes, then light a match to eliminate the evidence.
0:23-0:59: Read a magazine.
0:60: Flush, then leave the seat up, even though it was down when you finished using it. Go to wash your hands, but realize you're late for something and decide to skip it. Find and make out with your girlfriend.

At last, the truth is revealed. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And speaking of a huge weight, I've gotta go hit the head. Mind if I grab that issue of Cracked Magazine behind you?

What's that? Cracked failed as a magazine? Twice? Well, nertz to you, friend.