🔗 Share this article

Just before Christmas, I had an unusual situation. I believe it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a meeting of a group of longtime companions, who happen to be dental professionals, but this isn't pertinent. The assembled crowd were solely men, which turns out to be significant.

A Strange Predicament

The venue was a tavern enjoying a roaring trade. A forgotten session was enjoyed by everyone. Good cuisine, good drink and unexpectedly entertaining anecdotes about oral health. As expected, the point came for excursions to the men's room. Those who ventured off, I half-noticed, seemed to be gone a significant period. I didn't contemplate why this could be, but when it became my go, everything was revealed.

I turned the corner, and what awaited me but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. An empty space for the women’s toilet, but a great long one for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

A Sample of Everyday Life

For the avoidance of doubt, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any woman here. I am obviously cognizant that, for females, needing to line up to use a public toilet is standard practice. On countless occasions have I observed women queuing in a queue while men in the comparable place have to do the opposite?

In addition to the hassle of standing in line to use a facility, there’s a tinge of indignity about lingering there, waiting for something that men generally don’t have to experience. It was truly enlightening to get a taste of it myself, observing the opposite gender glide through the entrance while I was compelled to wait patiently in line with my companions, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our jackets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Genre of Lavatory Queue Conversation

There’s a whole conversational genre here – lavatory line banter – of which men have little familiarity. Females, I surmise, have learned to be quite proficient at it, exchanging pleasantries and an notable insight or two.

Regarding this I’ve consulted some lady acquaintances of my circle. The prevailing view is that intra-queue interaction is limited to the rare weary glance and the phrase: “Screw this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A associate informed me it’s exclusively at the washbasins afterwards that discussion tends to start up.

Had I been a female, I’d not spend a moment on both small talk or quiet. If I was forced, repeatedly, to wait in a common queue only for the chance to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like crazy at the pure injustice of it. A useful metric for any advanced community would be equal waiting times in urination waiting times. I’m researching research on this.

Brotherly Banter in the Line

Returning to my line, I tried to spark some friendly chat going about this novel state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, gave a weary look and remarked something along the lines of: “Ah, this is an disagreeable variation, doesn’t it boys?”

One person chuckled, another looked blank, a third individual looked sheepish. Another shook his head as if this was one more example of modern woes, political correctness etc. Aside from that, silence ensued. An individual exited, zipping up. The queue moved forward a position. Two more men joined the back of it. I let out a breath.

An Unspoken Exchange

A lady wafted out of the next-door restroom, all fragrant and unhurried. It was just fine for some. I grinned bashfully at her, attempting to express recognition of this topsy-turvy situation. Her response was: “Don't turn to me for sympathy, you jerk. Return when you’ve endured this on a regular basis and at that point I may give you the courtesy.”

In reality, she didn’t say that. She said nothing. But I know that’s what she was thinking. And I really could not blame her.