Ettique & Toilet Seats
I was in a rush the other morning. Coffee had kicked in. Life was moving fast.
I lifted the lid, did the thing, let it drop silently (you know the new fandangled dampened ones), washed my hands… and walked out.
Almost instantly, I heard it.
“The seat was up.”
Ah yes. One of civilisation’s great moral tests.
So let’s unpack this.
Is a toilet seat left up a sign that a man used the toilet?
Or is it just evidence that a human interacted with plumbing?
Somehow, this tiny hinged object has become loaded with meaning.
Manly to leave it up. Womanly to notice.
One acts, the other audits.
But what happens if we flip the script?
If a woman leaves the seat up, is she careless… or liberated or not listening to the desires of her man?
If a man notices and comments, is he considerate… or breaking an unspoken code?
And toilet paper—don’t get me started.
Thats another story to come…..
What fascinates me isn’t the seat.
It’s the story we attach to it.
We turn habits into identity.
Preferences into personality.
And suddenly a bathroom becomes a courtroom.
Maybe the real question isn’t who left the seat up
but why we need it to mean something.
Because in the end, it’s just a seat.
And we’re all going to end up sitting down eventually.
Your turn.
Seat up, seat down, what does it really say… and why do we care so much?
