🔗 Share this article

In the run-up to the holidays, I encountered an unusual episode. I feel it proved instructive. This took place at a gathering of several mates, who happen to be tooth doctors, but it's not relevant. The present group were exclusively male, which is significant.

A Novel Scenario

The location was a tavern doing a brisk business. A lost daytime was enjoyed by everyone. Good fare, good drink and remarkably amusing tales about oral health. As expected, the time dawned for excursions to the male facilities. Those who departed, I partially registered, looked to be absent a long time. I didn’t dwell on 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 sizeable procession for the gentlemen’s toilet. Not a single person waiting for the female facilities, but a considerable queue for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

An Experience of Everyday Life

To be perfectly clear, I neither court nor expect sympathy from any female reader here. I am fully cognizant that, for ladies, having to queue to use a restroom is standard practice. How many times have I seen women standing in a line while men in the same establishment have to do nothing of the sort?

Beyond the hassle of needing to wait to use a facility, there’s a whiff of indignity about standing there, waiting for something that men typically don’t have to experience. It was profoundly sobering to have a sample of it myself, watching the women glide through the portal while I was obliged to wait patiently in line with my mates, angling away at anything we had in our trouser pockets and scrolling through our handsets.

The Practice of Restroom Line Chitchat

There’s a entire style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have minimal familiarity. Females, I imagine, have developed skills to be rather good at it, engaging in polite remarks and an notable observation or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some female friends of my circle. The consensus is that intra-queue communication is limited to the odd exasperated look and the comment: “Forget this, I’m going to use the male.” A workmate told me it’s merely at the washbasins afterwards that discussion tends to start up.

If I was a lady, I’d waste no time on either pleasantries or silence. If I was compelled, repeatedly, to queue in a public line only for the opportunity to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the utter injustice of it. A useful benchmark for any modern society would be gender parity in toilet queue durations. I’m looking for research on this.

Comradely Chat in the Queue

During my time in my queue, I tried to initiate some brotherly banter flowing about this new state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and remarked something along the lines of: “Ah, this represents an unpleasant variation, right chaps?”

Someone grinned, a second appeared confused, a third looked sheepish. A further person rolled his eyes as if this was a further manifestation of modern woes, woke madness etc. Otherwise, silence prevailed. Someone emerged, zipping up. The group shuffled up a position. A couple more men entered the back of it. I let out a breath.

A Silent Moment

A lady emerged out of the neighbouring toilet, all fresh and unhurried. It was all right for some. I grinned apologetically at her, trying to convey an understanding of this reversed scenario. Her response was: “Don’t look to me for sympathy, you jerk. Reappear when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and only then I might give you the time of day.”

In reality, she did not utter that. She didn’t say a word. But I believe that’s what she was feeling. And I honestly would not censure her.