Is This a Guy Thing?

So, my handsome boy comes home from school the other day, and tells me all about his adventures with gastrointestinal distress throughout his school day.  I know how many trips he had to take, and when he finally got some relief.  I even know where he finally made the relief-inducing deposit:

"...so I went into my favorite stall, and then I tried to go, and then I did, and then I felt better!"

"What?"  I laughed.  "You have a favorite stall?"

"Yeeeeess."  Handsome Boy looked at me like I had grown a third eye in the middle of my forehead.  "It's so cool!  I like to use that one because it has a toilet AND a sink.  It's so awesome, but the only thing it doesn't have is a trash can, but that's OK, cause I don't even have to leave it to wash my hands.  I can do everything right there in the stall!"

Well.  At least now I know for sure that he washes his hands after he uses the loo...

Later, after my husband C got home, I told him all about the Favorite Stall.

"Can you believe it?"

C looked at me like I had grown a third eye in the middle of my forehead.

"Oh, not you too?"

"What?  Tell me you didn't have a favorite stall in school."

"Umm, no, my classes were too far flung.  First available was my stall of choice."

"I mean in elementary school."

I don't remember the bathrooms from elementary school.  (But I do remember this: the bathrooms had doors, and walls, and stalls with doors inside.)

"No, I did not have a favorite stall."

"Really?  I did.  It was-"

"Please, don't tell me.  I don't think I want to know."