Things in His House That Make Me Sad: The Lack of a Window in His Bathroom

We've reached that point where it’s acceptable for me to engage in activities in his bathroom and maybe, maybe even leave a few items in there. I’m not gonna go all How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days on him and cram Costco-sized boxes of tampons everywhere, but I’m pretty sure a toothbrush and a razor are acceptable. This interesting turn of events leads to me occasionally getting ready at his place, which in turn, has led me to VERY MUCH notice his lack of a bathroom window.

I’ll be primping and pampering and hair-drying all up in there to look special for our date/bar outing/whatever when I am reminded of why I hate blow drying my hair – it gets so fucking hot in this grease fire of a bathroom. Normally, I could just open up a window and--bam, airflow yo!--but NO. Now not only is the mirror fogged up from my shower and his, but the hot air from my hair dryer is turning his tiny, little, sad bathroom into a full-on sauna.

It looks like a neighborhood haunted house with dry ice “special effects” mingled with some middle-aged lady’s dream spa day up in this bitch. How’s a girl suppose to look her flyest when she can barely even breathe? Instead of my tresses looking Charlie's Angel-esque replete with soft curls and glossy sheen, my locks looked like an agitated cat's tail. I'm getting upset all over again just thinking about it. 

Let’s not even get started on the lighting going on in this place. First off – there is none, save for one glum like, five watt light bulb flickering hopelessly above. This whole room looks like its part of a horror movie set. I’m not completely convinced he didn’t steal this right off the set of Carrie or "American Horror Story."

While I can appreciate the cinematic greatness of well-crafted movie sets, I cannot appreciate the way I exit this bathroom panting like a dog. This bathroom is claustrophobic and I you can bet your bottom dollar that I will blame his ass when I inevitably die of heatstroke.