🔗 Share this article

In the run-up to the holidays, I experienced an unusual situation. I think it proved instructive. This took place at a meeting of several mates, who are incidentally tooth doctors, but that’s not important. The assembled group were solely men, which turns out to be relevant.

A Novel Scenario

The location was a bar and eatery doing a excellent custom. A lost afternoon was shared by the group. Fine food, good libations and unexpectedly amusing stories about teeth. Inevitably, the time came for trips to the gents. Those who departed, I half-noticed, appeared to be away a long time. I didn’t dwell on the reason this might have been, but when it came to me next, all became clear.

I turned the corner, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, but a substantial line for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this queue recognised.

A Sample of the Norm

Let me state unequivocally, I do not seek or anticipate empathy from any lady here. I am obviously conscious that, for females, having to queue to use a public toilet is standard practice. On countless occasions have I seen women standing in a queue while men in the same establishment have to do nothing of the sort?

Apart from the annoyance of needing to wait to use a facility, there’s a tinge of humiliation about standing there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to experience. It was decidedly sobering to get a taste of it myself, seeing the other sex walk straight through the door while I was obliged to stand solemnly in line with my companions, angling away at anything we had in our pockets and checking our mobile devices.

The Genre of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a complete style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant knowledge. Ladies, I presume, have become adept to be rather good at it, sharing pleasantries and an interesting observation or two.

About this topic I’ve polled some female friends of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that queue-based dialogue is restricted to the rare eye roll and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A associate informed me it’s only at the washbasins afterwards that discussion tends to start up.

Were I a female, I’d refrain from on either pleasantries or reticence. If I was compelled, repeatedly, to queue in a public line only for the privilege to empty my bladder, I’d vent my spleen like there was no tomorrow at the sheer injustice of it. A handy measure for any modern society would be balanced access in urination waiting times. I’m seeking out data on this.

Brotherly Interaction in the Queue

Returning to my queue, I attempted to get some male camaraderie going about this novel state of affairs of ours. I sighed a bit, gave a weary look and remarked something along the lines of: “Ah, this makes an disagreeable difference, isn't it lads?”

A fellow grinned, a second appeared confused, a third seemed awkward. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another example of modern woes, cultural decline etc. Otherwise, silence prevailed. An individual came out, adjusting his clothing. The line moved forward a position. A couple more men entered the rear of it. I sighed.

A Silent Moment

A woman wafted out of the next-door restroom, all fragrant and unhurried. It was all right for some. I beamed apologetically at her, trying to convey an understanding of this reversed situation. She remarked: “Don't come to me for sympathy, you jerk. Return when you’ve done this another hundred times and then I could give you the time of day.”

Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say nothing. But I know that’s what she was thinking. And I truly would not censure her.