A Truly Revelatory Encounter in the Public House Lavatory Queue

Just before the festive season, I had an extraordinary situation. I believe it proved instructive. This occurred at a meeting of a group of longtime companions, who are incidentally dental professionals, but this isn't pertinent. The present party were all blokes, which proves to be significant.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The establishment was a tavern enjoying a excellent custom. A wasted session was had by all. Fine fare, nice libations and surprisingly humorous stories about dentistry. As expected, the moment came for trips to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I half-noticed, seemed to be gone a significant period. I didn't contemplate the reason this could be, but when it became my go, everything was revealed.

Upon turning the bend, and what should I find but a sizeable procession for the gentlemen’s toilet. Not a single person waiting for the women’s toilet, but a considerable queue for the men’s. What strange new world was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this gathering knew.

A Taste of Everyday Life

Let me state unequivocally, I am not asking for empathy from any lady here. I am obviously conscious that, for females, needing to line up to use a convenience is standard practice. How many times have I observed women queuing in a queue 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 tinge of indignity about standing there, waiting for something that men generally don’t have to wait for. It was truly bracing to get a taste of it myself, watching the women breeze through the portal while I was obliged to stand solemnly in queue with my fellow fellas, fiddling at anything we had in our jackets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Genre of Restroom Line Chitchat

There’s a entire style of dialogue here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have minimal knowledge. Ladies, I imagine, have learned to be quite proficient at it, engaging in pleasantries and an interesting comment or two.

Regarding this I’ve consulted some women of my knowledge. The prevailing view is that within-the-line interaction is restricted to the occasional eye roll and the comment: “Screw this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague mentioned it’s merely at the hand-washing stations subsequently that conversation tends to break out.

If I was a lady, I’d not spend a moment on either niceties or silence. If I was compelled, repeatedly, to wait in a common queue simply for the opportunity to empty my bladder, I’d vent my spleen like crazy at the pure unfairness of it. A valuable benchmark for any modern culture would be gender parity in urination lining-up periods. I’m looking for studies on this.

Comradely Banter in the Queue

Returning to my line, I tried to initiate some brotherly banter started about this unprecedented circumstance of ours. I sighed a bit, rolled my eyes and remarked something to the effect of: “Ah, this is an irksome change, doesn’t it lads?”

A fellow smiled, another appeared confused, a third seemed awkward. Yet another rolled his eyes as if this was a further manifestation of a failing society, woke madness etc. Otherwise, quiet prevailed. A man emerged, fastening his trousers. The group shuffled up a place. Another two men joined the back of it. I sighed.

A Knowing Moment

A woman glided out of the next-door facility, all fragrant and at ease. It was just fine for some. I beamed bashfully at her, trying to communicate acknowledgement of this reversed state of affairs. She said: “Don't come to me for sympathy, you jerk. Come back when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and only then I may give you the time.”

Actually, she didn’t say that. She said a word. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I truly would not censure her.