An Illuminating Experience in the Public House Lavatory Procession

Just before the holidays, I had an extraordinary situation. I feel it proved instructive. This took place at a meeting of several mates, who are, as it happens dental professionals, but it's not important. The attending crowd were exclusively male, which proves to be relevant.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The venue was a pub/restaurant enjoying a excellent custom. A forgotten daytime was shared by the group. Fine fare, fine drink and remarkably humorous stories about oral health. Naturally, the time came for excursions to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I vaguely observed, looked to be gone a significant period. I didn't ponder why this might have been, but when it came to my turn, everything was revealed.

I turned the corner, and what awaited me but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, but a considerable queue for the men's. What fresh hell was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this queue knew.

An Experience of Common Reality

To be perfectly clear, I do not seek or anticipate empathy from any female reader here. I am acutely aware that, for women, being forced to wait to use a convenience is an everyday occurrence. On countless occasions have I witnessed women waiting in a queue while men in the comparable place have to do no such thing?

Beyond the annoyance of having to queue to use a facility, there’s a whiff of embarrassment about waiting there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was truly enlightening to get a taste of it myself, seeing the other sex breeze through the door while I was forced to line up dutifully with others with my fellow fellas, looking distractedly at something we had in our jackets and scrolling through our phones.

The Art of Lavatory Queue Chitchat

There’s a entire style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have little knowledge. Ladies, I imagine, have become adept to be quite proficient at it, engaging in polite remarks and an engaging insight or two.

Regarding this I’ve polled some lady acquaintances of my circle. The prevailing view is that intra-queue dialogue is confined to the rare weary glance and the comment: “Screw this, I’m going to use the male.” A workmate informed me it’s merely at the washbasins subsequently that chat tends to break out.

Had I been a lady, I’d waste no time on either pleasantries or quiet. If I was obliged, over and over, to queue in a public line merely for the chance to empty my bladder, I’d express my fury like crazy at the pure inequity of it. A handy metric for any modern culture would be equal waiting times in urination waiting times. I’m looking for studies on this.

Brotherly Banter in the Queue

Back in my wait, I tried to get some friendly chat going about this new circumstance of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and said something along the lines of: “So, this is an irksome change, right lads?”

One person smiled, someone else appeared confused, a other man looked sheepish. Yet another shook his head as if this was one more symptom of a failing society, woke madness etc. For the most part, stillness ensued. A man exited, adjusting his clothing. The group shuffled up a position. Another two men joined the back of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Exchange

A lady wafted out of the neighbouring restroom, all fresh and relaxed. It was perfectly okay for some. I smiled bashfully at her, trying to communicate an understanding of this topsy-turvy state of affairs. Her response was: “Don't come to me for solidarity, you bastard. Reappear when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and at that point I might give you the courtesy.”

Truthfully, she did not utter that. She uttered a word. But I know that’s what she was implying. And I honestly could not fault her.