🔗 Share this article

In the run-up to the holidays, I encountered an extraordinary episode. I believe it proved instructive. This happened at a get-together of some old friends, who are, as it happens tooth doctors, but this isn't important. The assembled crowd were solely men, which turns out to be relevant.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The establishment was a pub/restaurant enjoying a roaring trade. A wasted daytime was had by all. Nice food, nice libations and surprisingly amusing stories about teeth. Inevitably, the moment came for visits to the gents. Those who departed, I partially registered, looked to be gone a long time. I didn't ponder the reason this might have been, but when it came to my go, everything was revealed.

Upon turning the bend, and what awaited me but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. No queue at all for the women’s toilet, but a great long one for the gents'. What fresh hell was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this queue recognised.

A Sample of Common Reality

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for empathy from any woman here. I am fully aware that, for ladies, needing to line up to use a restroom is the norm. Repeatedly have I seen women waiting in a line while men in the identical venue have to do nothing of the sort?

Apart from the inconvenience of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a whiff of embarrassment about standing there, waiting for something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly enlightening to experience a dose of it myself, watching the women glide through the portal while I was obliged to stand solemnly in line with my companions, looking distractedly at something we had in our trouser pockets and consulting our handsets.

The Genre of Lavatory Queue Chitchat

There’s a whole form of small talk here – lavatory line banter – of which men have little familiarity. Females, I imagine, have developed skills to be rather good at it, sharing pleasantries and an engaging comment or two.

Regarding this I’ve asked some women of my acquaintance. The general agreement is that intra-queue interaction is confined to the rare eye roll and the phrase: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the male.” A associate mentioned it’s exclusively at the sinks later that discussion tends to start up.

Had I been a lady, I’d not spend a moment on either small talk or reticence. If I was compelled, over and over, to stand in a common queue merely for the privilege to use the toilet, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the pure unfairness of it. A handy metric for any modern society would be equal waiting times in toilet waiting times. I’m seeking out research on this.

Male Chat in the Line

Back in my queue, I attempted to initiate some friendly chat started about this new situation of ours. I tutted a bit, gave a weary look and said something like: “So, this is an disagreeable difference, right lads?”

A fellow chuckled, someone else appeared confused, a third individual appeared embarrassed. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was one more example of modern woes, political correctness etc. Aside from that, stillness prevailed. A man came out, zipping up. The group advanced a position. Another two men entered the rear of it. I exhaled.

A Silent Interaction

A lady wafted out of the next-door restroom, all clean and unhurried. It was perfectly okay for some. I beamed apologetically at her, endeavouring to express recognition of this reversed situation. She said: “Don't turn to me for solidarity, you bastard. Reappear when you’ve done this on a regular basis and at that point I could give you the time.”

Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She said anything. But I know that’s what she was implying. And I honestly would not fault her.