You never take the middle urinal. Obviously. He knew that. But he couldn’t help himself. A set of three urinals with the middle one free was his lucky day. It wasn’t so that he could eye up their penises, although he did when he felt like he could get away with it. No, it was the closeness he craved. He liked standing shoulder to shoulder to other men like himself. If the urinals were close enough, and they didn’t have those separators between them (he hated those), he could even brush elbows with them, or press into them. He always apologized, profusely and usually until the guy told him to stop, but that was all just a show: he lived for those elbow brushes and shoulder touches. One time he got lost in the moment and fully leaned into a man on his right. The man finished and then punched him, dislocating his jaw and sending him to the ground. He pissed all over himself, but he didn’t really mind. It was uncomfortable and it was embarrassing, sure. But it was warm.