A Genuinely Illuminating Encounter in the Public House Toilet Procession

Just before the festive season, I had an extraordinary situation. I believe it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a gathering of some old friends, who are incidentally tooth doctors, but it's not relevant. The attending group were exclusively male, which is significant.

An Unfamiliar Situation

The location was a pub/restaurant experiencing a brisk business. A forgotten session was enjoyed by everyone. Good cuisine, good beverages and remarkably amusing stories about oral health. Inevitably, the moment came for visits to the gents. Those who went, I vaguely observed, seemed to be absent a long time. I didn’t dwell on the reason this could be, but when it became me next, the mystery was solved.

Upon turning the bend, and what awaited me but a long queue for the gents' lavatory. No queue at all for the ladies' room, but a great long one for the gents'. What strange new world was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this line knew.

A Taste of Common Reality

For the avoidance of doubt, I neither court nor expect pity from any female reader here. I am fully cognizant that, for women, needing to line up to use a restroom is the norm. On countless occasions have I observed women standing in a line while men in the same establishment have to do the opposite?

Apart from the annoyance of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a whiff of indignity about lingering there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to endure. It was profoundly sobering to get a taste of it myself, watching the opposite gender glide through the entrance while I was obliged to wait patiently in queue with my companions, looking distractedly at anything we had in our trouser pockets and checking our phones.

The Art of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a whole conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have little familiarity. Females, I presume, have become adept to be fairly skilled at it, exchanging polite remarks and an engaging insight or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some women of my knowledge. The general agreement is that intra-queue communication is confined to the rare eye roll and the phrase: “Screw this, I’m going to use the male.” A workmate informed me it’s exclusively at the washbasins subsequently that discussion tends to break out.

Were I a female, I’d not spend a moment on either small talk or silence. If I was forced, repeatedly, to wait in a public line merely for the chance to use the toilet, I’d rant angrily like crazy at the pure injustice of it. A valuable measure for any modern culture would be gender parity in toilet lining-up periods. I’m seeking out research on this.

Brotherly Banter in the Procession

Back in my wait, I endeavoured to spark some brotherly banter flowing about this unprecedented situation of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and said something along the lines of: “Well, this represents an unpleasant difference, right chaps?”

Someone smiled, another seemed nonplussed, a other man seemed awkward. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was one more manifestation of modern woes, political correctness etc. For the most part, silence prevailed. Someone came out, adjusting his clothing. The line advanced a position. A couple more men joined the end of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Interaction

A woman wafted out of the next-door restroom, all fragrant and relaxed. It was all right for some. I grinned apologetically at her, trying to express recognition of this reversed state of affairs. She remarked: “Don't turn to me for support, you blighter. Return when you’ve endured this on a regular basis and at that point I might give you the time of day.”

Actually, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything. But I know that’s what she was thinking. And I really could not fault her.