Bathrooms

Among many other faults (such as always being right, being too left, and sometimes just being too much) I have a fairly severe phobia: I can't take large (or medium or small) groups of people. It is especially acute in other people's private homes. I get cold sweat (and NOBODY can sweat like a phobic fat guy) extreme tension, pallor, trembling limbs, tachycardia (rapid, uneven heartbeat). There are exceptions to this: When I TEACH a karate class, it is much less pronounced, probably because I am in control. However, with the exact same group of people, in the exact same place, if I am not teaching, instant phobia. The yearly gathering of our Dojo is a complete horror show for me, I sweat all the way through it, and flee as soon as humanly possible.

This condition kept me from going back to high school after I was expelled, it keeps me from going to college today, it keeps me from doing almost anything that requires contact with strangers. I gave up my computer repair business largely for this reason.
There is one thing that saves me: Bathrooms. Bathrooms are my safe-haven, my escape, my sanctuary, the one place the people won't follow me, and nobody gets too openly curious about just what it is I am doing, hiding in there. They are instant privacy and complete anonymity. They are a bolt-hole that is required by law in anyplace where large numbers of people gather, and I love them. I am sure they have saved my life ocasionally, and I am damned sure they have saved countless other's physical well-being by letting me get out of their faces before I remove them from mine by force.

When I was younger, I thought this was fear. I was convinced that I was a complete coward, incapable of facing up to people. I was cluttered with self-loathing and contempt, and I hated my life and everything about it. Then I discovered the Martial Arts. In my late teens and early twenties I trained myself until I was fairly sure I could kill most anybody with whom I shared a space, no matter the numbers. When it didn't help, I was paradoxically relieved. That meant that I was not a coward, and I gave myself permission to hide in bathrooms whenever it got too bad. Since then, I have been a happy guy. Still can't do a lot of social stuff (can't go to bars or movies, for instance), but if there is a bathroom where I am going, I am now fairly confidant I can make it through.

Bathrooms. Love 'em.