Why can’t I eat donuts in the bathroom of this bar? I bought the donuts this morning, which means they’re the ideal freshness for consumption, and would pair perfectly with the bourbon I’ve been gobbling down all night. I thought that merely stating this point would win you over to my side, but since you still seem unconvinced, I shall attempt to elaborate upon my argument.

You mentioned the hygiene issue but I assure you that not only have I been storing these donuts in a sealed plastic baggie all day, I have no intention of touching anything inside the bathroom with my bare hands. I have plenty of napkins that I’ve stolen from the bar. Free gloves! And besides, I can hold the bag like a sandwich and squeeze out the sweet donut meat right into my jaws.

You mentioned the smell, and sure, I’d prefer to not eat donuts in the bathroom, but capitalism has forced this bar to play cruel cop to my donut crimes, so I am corralled to the only place I can enjoy these donuts in peace – the bathroom. While the smell might leave something to be desired, there’s a certain cologne of victory to the chocolate and industrial cleanser that leaves me breathless. And breathless means I won’t be breathing that much, so I’ll be fine.

You have expressed concern that eating donuts in the bathroom of this bar will leave your friends with a bad impression of me. No need to worry – I have no desire to impress your friends. However I would like to point out that if your friends are not impressed by me consuming donuts in the bathroom of this bar, they don’t seem to be hitting the qualifying metrics of “fun” that genuinely constitutes friends, but I digress.

Counter-argument: they do not sell donuts at this bar. If they did sell donuts at this bar, I would’ve ordered some. Instead, I’ve been relegated to an evening of savory pupusas, which, while delicious, are not double chocolate old fashioneds. And I don’t care what kind of horrifying hashtag cooking content you pull up to attempt to convince me otherwise, these are two distinct foods that satisfy very different needs.

In conclusion: I’m not going to eat donuts in the bathroom of this bar because you asked me very nicely not to, but knowing me next time I am very likely going to bring a meatball sub, and there will be no stopping the subway once the booze takes off from the station – choo choo, and thank you.