A Truly Illuminating Experience in the Public House Lavatory Procession

Just before Christmas, I had an remarkable situation. I think it did me good. This took place at a meeting of several mates, who are, as it happens dentists, but this isn't relevant. The present group were exclusively male, which turns out to be significant.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The venue was a pub/restaurant experiencing a excellent custom. A wasted afternoon was shared by the group. Good food, nice beverages and surprisingly humorous stories about oral health. Naturally, the time arrived for excursions to the gents. Those who went, I vaguely observed, looked to be away a long time. I didn't ponder why this was, but when it was me next, all became clear.

I turned the corner, and what should I find 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 fresh hell was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

An Experience of Everyday Life

Let me state unequivocally, I am not asking for pity from any female reader here. I am obviously conscious that, for women, having to queue to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I observed women waiting in a queue while men in the comparable place have to do no such thing?

Apart from the hassle of having to queue to use a convenience, there’s a whiff of humiliation about standing there, waiting for something that men typically don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly bracing to experience a dose of it myself, observing the opposite gender walk straight through the door while I was compelled to stand solemnly in queue with my companions, angling away at whatever we had in our pockets and consulting our phones.

The Art of Lavatory Queue Conversation

There’s a whole conversational genre here – lavatory line banter – of which men have scant knowledge. Women, I imagine, have become adept to be quite proficient at it, engaging in small talk and an engaging insight or two.

About this topic I’ve asked some female friends of my circle. The general agreement is that within-the-line dialogue is limited to the rare exasperated look and the phrase: “Forget this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague told me it’s merely at the washbasins subsequently that discussion tends to begin.

If I was a woman, I’d refrain from on either niceties or silence. If I was obliged, repeatedly, to wait in a public line merely for the privilege to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like crazy at the pure inequity of it. A valuable measure for any modern community would be balanced access in toilet waiting times. I’m seeking out studies on this.

Male Chat in the Queue

Returning to my queue, I attempted to spark some friendly chat going about this new situation of ours. I sighed a bit, showed exasperation and remarked something to the effect of: “Ah, this represents an unpleasant variation, isn't it chaps?”

One person chuckled, someone else looked blank, a other man looked sheepish. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was a further example of broken Britain, woke madness etc. For the most part, quiet ensued. A man exited, zipping up. The line moved forward a place. A couple more men joined the end of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Moment

A lady wafted out of the next-door facility, all fresh and relaxed. It was perfectly okay for some. I grinned bashfully at her, trying to express acknowledgement of this upside-down state of affairs. Her response was: “Don’t look to me for solidarity, you jerk. Reappear when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and only then I might give you the time.”

Actually, she didn’t say that. She said nothing. But I know that’s what she was thinking. And I truly could not blame her.