An Open Letter To The Happy Couple Who Always Used the Washroom Next To My Room To Fuck
Dear mystery couple, it’s been years since I have last heard you two next to me, making sweet passionate love in a top floor Vic Hall washroom and my heart grows weary every day that I don’t know your names. Over the course of my first year I became acquainted with the sounds of your sloppy toppies and slippery bottoms. I did not know it at the time, but your sounds of conception were the most beautiful noises I would ever hear.
At first I resented you; I was in love with that washroom; I felt that I had a claim to it. It was a private washroom right next to me, and I was a closed minded young frosh and I didn’t realise we could share our love for that washroom. To hear you attempting to conceive a child in what I felt was my washroom filled me with a sense of rage and jealousy due to my feelings for that stall. It might not surprise you that this anger turned into shame and fascination over time.
The first time I heard it, I was unsure whether someone found a way to passionately make a sloppy mac n cheese in the washroom, alas it was much worse than I could imagine. When I decided it was enough because they obviously were using too much milk in this mac, I knocked and to my shock and horror, they had no mac n cheese. This was just the first time I heard this couple getting down in the washroom. Despite my objections, these sessions didn’t stop happening, and I grew more and more resentful of losing the washroom I once loved.
Some months later, after a particulariary hefty four piece tenders from none other than the lazy scholar, I had to make a ritualistic sprint to the washroom that I trusted so much. They must have put in more laxatives than usual because this was especially painful. When I managed to get next door, I heard something shocking; you two were arguing. This is when my anger melted into loving compassion as does a lazy chicken tender melt into viscous diarrhea. They were humans, like me, and I think I loved them as much as I loved that washroom.
After promptly shitting myself, I worried for them and their relationship. I was wondering if they were going as strong (and as hard), as their previous audio queues suggested to me. I stewed over this for weeks, and I was barely able to look at my floormates, of which among them I assumed someone was the culprit, until one night when I tried to go to the washroom, I heard something that soothed my soul. It was the happy couple, casually talking in the washroom, while making love. Words could not express how happy I was to see you back together, and I look at this moment as one of my fondest from first year.
Wherever you are now, I am sure your love was strong enough to hold you too together, and I hope you will reach out to me, your accidental admirer. I want to meet the now 2 year old child you conceived so long ago, and if it is still possible, be invited to your wedding. Much love, email us at [email protected] if you know who this happy couple could be.