🔗 Share this article

Shortly before the festive season, I had an unusual situation. I think it was beneficial for me. This happened at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who are, as it happens dentists, but this isn't relevant. The assembled group were exclusively male, which proves to be relevant.

A Strange Scenario

The establishment was a pub/restaurant experiencing a excellent custom. A forgotten session was had by all. Good cuisine, nice libations and remarkably humorous tales about oral health. Inevitably, the point dawned for visits to the gents. Those who departed, I partially registered, seemed to be gone a significant period. I didn’t dwell on why this could be, but when it came to me next, everything was revealed.

Rounding the corner, and what awaited me but a lengthy line for the men's restroom. No queue at all for the female facilities, but a great long one for the gents'. What strange new world was this? This was not a reality any of us in this queue recognised.

A Taste of Everyday Life

For the avoidance of doubt, I neither court nor expect empathy from any lady here. I am obviously conscious that, for ladies, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. Repeatedly have I witnessed women standing in a line while men in the same establishment have to do no such thing?

In addition to the annoyance of having to queue to use a toilet, there’s a whiff of humiliation about standing there, awaiting something that men typically don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly sobering to experience a dose of it myself, observing the women walk straight through the door while I was compelled to line up dutifully with others with my companions, looking distractedly at something we had in our trouser pockets and checking our mobile devices.

The Genre of Toilet Queue Chitchat

There’s a whole style of dialogue here – lavatory line banter – of which men have minimal experience. Women, I presume, have become adept to be fairly skilled at it, engaging in pleasantries and an interesting insight or two.

On this I’ve polled some lady acquaintances of my acquaintance. The general agreement is that queue-based interaction is restricted to the odd exasperated look and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague mentioned it’s merely at the hand-washing stations afterwards that chat tends to start up.

Were I a lady, I’d not spend a moment on either small talk or quiet. If I was obliged, over and over, to stand in a shared procession merely for the chance to relieve myself, I’d rant angrily like nobody’s business at the utter inequity of it. A handy metric for any modern society would be equal waiting times in toilet queue durations. I’m seeking out research on this.

Comradely Chat in the Queue

During my time in my wait, I attempted to spark some brotherly banter started about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, gave a weary look and said something along the lines of: “Well, this represents an unpleasant change, right lads?”

A fellow grinned, another looked blank, a other man looked sheepish. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was a further manifestation of a failing society, political correctness etc. Otherwise, stillness ensued. A man exited, fastening his trousers. The queue moved forward a place. A couple more men took a place at the back of it. I exhaled.

A Silent Exchange

A female wafted out of the neighbouring restroom, all clean and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I beamed sheepishly at her, attempting to convey an understanding of this reversed scenario. Her response was: “Don't turn to me for solidarity, you blighter. Return when you’ve endured this another hundred times and at that point I might give you the time of day.”

Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say nothing. But I believe that’s what she was thinking. And I really could not fault her.