🔗 Share this article

In the run-up to the festive season, I encountered an remarkable episode. I feel it did me good. This took place at a gathering of a group of longtime companions, who are incidentally dentists, but that’s not pertinent. The present crowd were exclusively male, which turns out to be key.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The establishment was a bar and eatery experiencing a excellent custom. A lost afternoon was enjoyed by everyone. Good fare, fine drink and unexpectedly humorous stories about dentistry. Inevitably, the moment dawned for excursions to the gents. Those who departed, I vaguely observed, appeared to be away a considerable while. I didn't contemplate the reason this might have been, but when it became my go, the mystery was solved.

Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a lengthy line for the gents' lavatory. Not a single person waiting for the women’s toilet, but a great long one for the men’s. What strange new world was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this line were accustomed to.

A Sample of Common Reality

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for sympathy from any lady here. I am fully cognizant that, for females, being forced to wait to use a restroom is standard practice. Repeatedly have I seen women standing in a queue while men in the same establishment have to do the opposite?

Apart from the annoyance of having to queue to use a toilet, there’s a whiff of embarrassment about waiting there, anticipating something that men typically don’t have to endure. It was decidedly enlightening to experience a dose of it myself, seeing the other sex walk straight through the entrance while I was forced to stand solemnly with others with my companions, fiddling at whatever we had in our pockets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Genre of Restroom Line Chitchat

There’s a whole form of small talk here – lavatory line banter – of which men have minimal familiarity. Females, I imagine, have learned to be rather good at it, engaging in pleasantries and an notable insight or two.

Regarding this I’ve consulted some lady acquaintances of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that queue-based dialogue is confined to the odd exasperated look and the phrase: “Screw this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A associate informed me it’s exclusively at the hand-washing stations afterwards that discussion tends to begin.

If I was a female, I’d waste no time on both pleasantries or quiet. If I was forced, time and again, to queue in a public line simply for the chance to relieve myself, I’d vent my spleen like crazy at the pure injustice of it. A handy metric for any advanced society would be balanced access in urination queue durations. I’m researching data on this.

Comradely Banter in the Procession

During my time in my queue, I endeavoured to initiate some friendly chat started about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, rolled my eyes and said something along the lines of: “Well, this is an disagreeable difference, isn't it boys?”

One person smiled, a second appeared confused, a third individual looked sheepish. Yet another rolled his eyes as if this was one more example of a failing society, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, stillness reigned. Someone emerged, zipping up. The group advanced a position. Two more men took a place at the back of it. I exhaled.

An Unspoken Interaction

A woman glided out of the adjacent toilet, all fresh and at ease. It was just fine for some. I smiled sheepishly at her, endeavouring to express acknowledgement of this reversed state of affairs. She remarked: “Don't turn to me for support, you blighter. Return when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and at that point I may give you the time of day.”

Truthfully, she never spoke that. She said a word. But I believe that’s what she was thinking. And I honestly would not blame her.