Pee and the Psycho Doctor

In spite of the brazen individual that I've become, I used to be horribly shy (I know, no one will believe me). Ridiculously so. I would make sure I was the first one into a classroom, lunchroom, any room, so that I wouldn't have to be watched as the skinny, little, white boy entered (you've seen the pictures)....and maybe even have to go through the arduous task of trying to find a seat by some nice person who felt sorry for me. "Red rover, red rover, send _____ right over" and never hearing your name called was hell. It was hell enough to make me run for the stall in the boy's bathroom growing up. I mean, I think there were two or three urinals and a couple of stalls -- complete with the safety and privacy of a door. I would love to have seen those doors with dead bolts and an alarm system installed. But, of course, you already know of my former shyness when it comes to these sorts of indiscretions. You would never find me at the urinal...hanging my wee-wee out for the boys to see was just not my thing. Alas, I was the one holed up in the stall, peeking through the crack in the door to be sure that no one was trying to look inside at me. I think I'd have poked their eye out if they had. And, not only that, but I found myself most comfortable when actually sitting down, not standing, while peeing. Hum. Weird, isn't it? I mean, there are stranger things that we boys have done in the bathrooms....but this one was just a little off. I can't really explain it very well. But I do remember it. And how my parents ever came to hear of it is beyond me, but they did. It was along about this same time that I just plain old didn't find school challenging (early grade school here, late 1960s or maybe 1970). It was totally boring and never really did accelerate in excitement for me. I couldn't wait to get out of school. So, my parents sent me off to see psycho doctor down in an old house near downtown. I remember my mom taking me there. I went in with the doc while she sat in the waiting room probably reading last month's Life magazine or gazing through Highlight's for Children for some new activity to have me try when we got home. I remember answering question after question for the shrink. We looked at pictures: "What do you see in this picture?" We played the little game "What shape do you see in here?" as I looked intensely at a bunch of black or blue ink dots on the page and tried to decipher a naked boy in that mess. I have no horrible, terrible emotional trauma from that day. I think I performed well under the pressure. What I do know is that the kindly doctor told my mom that there was nothing wrong with me. That school actually was boring and didn't make me think. It was plain old not challenging. He also told her that if I wanted to do something, I'd do it. And if I did not want to do something, that I probably wouldn't do it. Nothing has changed. I can still be stubborn. Now, as for the let's-not-take-a-leak-in-front-of-the-boys deal, he said it was just a phase and that I'd get over it. And, boy, did I. I think I went too far the other direction.

UPDATE (May 19): Take a look here at what my friend over at Saturday Night Soup for the Soul created as a result of this post. Warning -- Adult Material -- 18 and Over Only.