A Genuinely Eye-Opening Incident in the Public House Toilet Procession

Just before the festive season, I encountered an unusual incident. I believe it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a get-together of some old friends, who happen to be dentists, but this isn't relevant. The attending party were exclusively male, which is relevant.

A Strange Predicament

The venue was a bar and eatery enjoying a excellent custom. A forgotten afternoon was had by all. Nice cuisine, nice beverages and remarkably humorous tales about teeth. As expected, the point dawned for visits to the men's room. Those who departed, I partially registered, appeared to be gone a significant period. I didn’t dwell on why this might have been, but when it came to my turn, all became clear.

Upon turning the bend, and what awaited me but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, but a considerable queue for the men’s. What fresh hell was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering knew.

A Sample of Everyday Life

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for empathy from any woman here. I am obviously cognizant that, for females, having to queue to use a convenience is standard practice. Repeatedly have I seen women standing in a row while men in the comparable place have to do no such thing?

In addition to the annoyance of needing to wait to use a toilet, there’s a whiff of humiliation about standing there, waiting for something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly bracing to get a taste of it myself, watching the opposite gender glide through the portal while I was obliged to wait patiently with others with my companions, fiddling at something we had in our trouser pockets and checking our handsets.

The Genre of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a entire conversational genre here – lavatory line banter – of which men have little knowledge. Ladies, I surmise, have learned to be fairly skilled at it, sharing polite remarks and an notable insight or two.

On this I’ve polled some women of my acquaintance. The general agreement is that intra-queue dialogue is limited to the rare eye roll and the utterance: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A workmate told me it’s merely at the hand-washing stations later that discussion tends to break out.

If I was a lady, I’d waste no time on either small talk or reticence. If I was forced, over and over, to queue in a public line merely for the opportunity to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the utter unfairness of it. A valuable benchmark for any civilised society would be gender parity in urination waiting times. I’m looking for studies on this.

Comradely Interaction in the Line

Back in my wait, I endeavoured to get some male camaraderie going about this new circumstance of ours. I sighed a bit, rolled my eyes and remarked something like: “So, this represents an disagreeable difference, isn't it boys?”

A fellow chuckled, a second appeared confused, a other man seemed awkward. Yet another gave a dismissive wave as if this was one more manifestation of modern woes, cultural decline etc. Otherwise, quiet ensued. Someone came out, zipping up. The queue shuffled up a position. Two more men took a place at the rear of it. I exhaled.

A Knowing Interaction

A woman wafted out of the neighbouring toilet, all clean and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I grinned sheepishly at her, attempting to express recognition of this upside-down scenario. She remarked: “Don’t look to me for support, you jerk. Return when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and only then I may give you the courtesy.”

Actually, she never spoke that. She uttered a word. But I am convinced that’s what she was feeling. And I truly would not fault her.