I was at a party recently and I had a terrible bowel movement in a tiny bathroom without a fan. When I came out there was a super cute babe waiting to go in next. I wanted to apologize and explain myself but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. What could I have said to smooth it over and not come across as a creepy, smelly moron?

I shouldn’t be surprised that the readers of this column are concerned with butts and butt-related issues, and I reluctantly accept my role as a proctoadviser. I’ll begin by addressing the issue two weeks in a row. Hey, we can’t all write long-form New Yorker articles on Andy Warhol’s love of late-night swimming and how it has effected wheat farm production, right?

I’ve always been pretty doubtful of bathroom exhaust fans, Lil’ Stinker. If there was a productivity olympics for household appliances, the bathroom fan would be India — the worst performer in Olympic history. Have you ever heard someone say, “That bathroom fan is amazing!”? No, and you never will, because the bathroom fan’s reputation as an underachiever is so widespread that it doesn’t need to do anything. It’s kind of like David Spade: it’s undeniably terrible and somehow it still gets jobs. If the bathroom fan is good for anything, it’s drowning out the embarrassing sounds that might otherwise escape.

In your situation, Lil’ Stinker, the lack of a bathroom fan is the least of your worries. In the time that you do your business, wash your hands, and stare nervously into the mirror hoping that the smell will dissipate, the fan is basically just laughing at you. But there are ways to use the washroom at a party and emerge with your honour in tact. From your description, you said nothing to the woman standing outside of the bathroom. I can only assume that you ran past her with your head in your hands, hoping to find a place of anonymity among the crowd, wishing with all of your heart that she wouldn’t see you for the rest of the night. Chances are she would see you, and chances are you would misinterpret her gestures, believing every word out of her mouth was, “That’s the guy over there! Look at that loser, he smells so bad and I find him disgusting! There is no other person in the world that could compare to him as far as being disgusting goes.”

Your choice to avoid apologising was the right move, but saying nothing at all is probably worse. Why implicate yourself when there are so many drunken scapegoats standing so closeby? You asked me what you could say to smooth the situation over, and I suggest something like this: “Okay, before you go in there I need to explain something to you. It smells really bad in there, and you’re obviously going to think it was me because I just came out, and all I can do to defend myself is tell you that it smelled before I went in there. I saw the guy that did it, but I won’t tell you who it was because I’m not that type of person. You need to know that you’re not going to have a good time in there. It’s horrendous, it’s unbearable, but in the end I think it will make you stronger. I wish you the best of luck, and if it will help, we can talk about it when you come out.”

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Kirk Heron is Toronto Standard‘s advice columnist. Follow him on Twitter at @ohnowhattodo. 

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