Fine. Okay. I am uptight and weird. Possibly frigid. And I’m a thirty-seven year old woman who has never used a bidet.
Here’s the deal — bidets are so continental and gross. I barely know anything about them but I always picture a hairy European dude standing over the white pony and washing his junk.
I always try to ignore ’em whenever I see one in a hotel room. The only thing grosser than bidets are Japanese toilets that wash and dry your butt. I sat on one when I spoke at Google’s headquarters and almost passed out. No thanks. That’s too much splashing and someone might get hurt.
On my recent trip to Italy, I told my husband that I had never used a bidet. He laughed at me. Then he laughed even harder when I told him about my visions of Silvio Berlusconi washing the bunga bunga off his ass.
As I write this, I want to vomit.
But when in Rome, you gotta do new things…
…so I went on Google and took a crash course in how to use a bidet. Really. The HR lady in me needed research and data. (I didn’t need the pictures but I got those, too. Ugh.)
Then I used it. OMG. Some observations.
- I felt like a French whore.
- Squatting isn’t an effective way to go about life.
- I won’t do it again.
Here’s the weird part — I know all of these soccer moms in the suburbs of America who have installed bidets in their McMansions. I have no idea why. I will never buy a home with a bidet. For real. In my mind, if you have a bidet it means that you run a sex palace. Sick.
Your remodeling decision just took hundreds of thousands of dollars off the value of your home.
Christ. I am an uptight HR lady.
But I’m proud of it. No more bidets for me.