🔗 Share this article

Shortly before the holidays, I encountered an remarkable incident. I believe it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a gathering of a group of longtime companions, who are incidentally dentists, but it's not pertinent. The present crowd were all blokes, which proves to be relevant.

A Strange Situation

The establishment was a pub/restaurant enjoying a roaring trade. A lost daytime was enjoyed by everyone. Nice cuisine, nice beverages and surprisingly amusing tales about dentistry. Naturally, the time dawned for trips to the men's room. Those who went, I partially registered, seemed to be gone a significant period. I didn't ponder why this could be, but when it came to my go, everything was revealed.

Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the gentlemen’s toilet. An empty space for the women’s toilet, but a great long one for the men's. What strange new world was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this gathering recognised.

An Experience of Everyday Life

For the avoidance of doubt, I neither court nor expect sympathy from any female reader here. I am acutely aware that, for ladies, needing to line up to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. Repeatedly have I observed women standing in a queue while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the annoyance of needing to wait to use a toilet, there’s a whiff of humiliation about standing there, awaiting something that men typically don’t have to experience. It was profoundly enlightening to have a sample of it myself, watching the other sex glide through the portal while I was compelled to stand solemnly with others with my fellow fellas, fiddling at anything we had in our trouser pockets and consulting our handsets.

The Practice of Restroom Line Banter

There’s a whole style of dialogue here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have minimal knowledge. Women, I surmise, have become adept to be quite proficient at it, sharing small talk and an engaging insight or two.

Regarding this I’ve consulted some women of my knowledge. The general agreement is that within-the-line interaction is limited to the odd exasperated look and the phrase: “Screw this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A associate informed me it’s only at the sinks subsequently that discussion tends to break out.

Were I a female, I’d not spend a moment on either pleasantries or quiet. If I was forced, time and again, to wait in a common queue merely for the privilege to empty my bladder, I’d express my fury like nobody’s business at the sheer unfairness of it. A valuable measure for any modern society would be gender parity in urination queue durations. I’m looking for studies on this.

Male Banter in the Queue

Back in my wait, I attempted to get some male camaraderie started about this unprecedented situation of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, gave a weary look and remarked something like: “So, this is an unpleasant change, right boys?”

Someone grinned, someone else seemed nonplussed, a third individual looked sheepish. Another rolled his eyes as if this was yet another symptom of broken Britain, cultural decline etc. Otherwise, quiet prevailed. Someone came out, adjusting his clothing. The queue shuffled up a spot. Another two men took a place at the rear of it. I let out a breath.

A Silent Exchange

A lady wafted out of the adjacent toilet, all clean and unhurried. It was just fine for some. I grinned sheepishly at her, trying to express recognition of this reversed scenario. Her response was: “Don't come to me for solidarity, you bastard. Return when you’ve done this another hundred times and at that point I might give you the courtesy.”

Actually, she did not utter that. She didn’t say nothing. But I am convinced that’s what she was thinking. And I truly would not censure her.