Some things ought to just remain unchanged. Stable. Predictable. (No, not men.)
Traditional, not subject to the harsh winter winds of change, so necessary before a fresh new spring may emerge. I'm referring to my porcelain friend and yours, the venerable toilet.

With respect to tradition and functionality, men's toilets have always had a handle, sort of like (ahem) men. Readily identifiable, this handle had provided more than just a function to the toilet, more than I had realized; as do so many things taken for granted, until they are gone. It provided comfort, security, and all necessary for an uncomplicated rite of passage, so to speak.

Well, I was in a relatively new bathroom the other day and who did I see? (hello, Jack) Nobody, thank God, for it was a number two trip. Don't you just love those new, sleek, clean corporate bathrooms? Yes, they deteriorate, (ahem, not everything in this story is tongue and cheek now), but that first year or two, wow!

I closed the still immaculate stall door. You know, normally, the new ones have really functional (although at times, hard to figure out) well thought-out locking mechanisms. They engage so solidly, eliminating that nagging worry;
will the door hold shut in a crowded men's room, (say, a sporting event) during your sensitive moment?

To my surprise, this one failed miserably. Just didn't stick out far enough, you know, to engage well.

But this wasn't a crowded bathroom, it was empty, so I settled in to do my business. I was going to use my best toiletry etiquette, the courtesy flush, when to my surprise, as I reached back, then up, no handle. Come on, really? Same thing, other side. I got less flexibility that way, too. I finished tidying up, and stood up, zzzp, grunt, suck in just a bit...there, buckled up. Turned around and went to discover that well hidden handle.

To my horror, there was no handle. That's right, none. In its place was...a button. A button? Oh my God, I just went (you know) in the women's bathroom. But subconsciously, I was thinking about the neutering of this toilet. Substituting feminine utensils, creating a feminine toilet, for the feminine bathroom...(female bathroom just didn't seem to reflect the amount of horror here correctly). But, perhaps it was rationally justifiable fair play going forward in an all equal society.

Nevertheless, I exited quickly to check the door emblem. But my door did have the traditional horned icon, the other door without. I was in the right bathroom, after all. Hmm, no wonder I had trouble getting a handle on the situation...there weren't any.

You know, normally, I don't hold anything against a woman liberationist, (mostly because they won't let me), but in this case, I felt women's liberation had gone too far. It was just inconceivable to me, the depth of penetration achieved here.

So I rang up the famous and still well-esteemed MS. GLORIA, (Now Mrs., actually must have found a eunuch somewhere), iconic head of the American Women's Movement; (movement is such an interesting, applicative word here). Her quipped reply was tinged with sarcasm:

"I don't think we float in the same bowl, Victor."