🔗 Share this article A Genuinely Illuminating Incident in the Public House Lavatory Line Shortly before the festive season, I had an remarkable episode. I feel it proved instructive. This took place at a meeting of some old friends, who are incidentally tooth doctors, but that’s not relevant. The assembled crowd were solely men, which is relevant. An Unfamiliar Predicament The location was a bar and eatery enjoying a roaring trade. A lost afternoon was had by all. Nice food, fine libations and remarkably humorous stories about dentistry. Inevitably, the moment arrived for excursions to the gents. Those who went, I partially registered, seemed to be gone a significant period. I didn't ponder why this could be, but when it was my go, everything was revealed. Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the gentlemen’s toilet. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, but a substantial line for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this line recognised. A Taste of Everyday Life For the avoidance of doubt, I am not asking for sympathy from any female reader here. I am acutely conscious that, for females, being forced to wait to use a convenience is the norm. Repeatedly have I seen women waiting in a line while men in the same establishment have to do no such thing? In addition to the hassle of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a whiff of indignity about waiting there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to wait for. It was profoundly sobering to experience a dose of it myself, seeing the opposite gender walk straight through the portal while I was obliged to wait patiently with others with my fellow fellas, fiddling at whatever we had in our jackets and consulting our mobile devices. The Art of Toilet Queue Conversation There’s a complete conversational genre here – lavatory line banter – of which men have scant familiarity. Females, I imagine, have developed skills to be quite proficient at it, engaging in small talk and an interesting insight or two. About this topic I’ve consulted some women of my knowledge. The prevailing view is that intra-queue dialogue is limited to the occasional exasperated look and the utterance: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the male.” A colleague informed me it’s merely at the sinks subsequently that conversation tends to start up. Had I been a woman, I’d not spend a moment on both small talk or quiet. If I was forced, time and again, to stand in a common queue merely for the chance to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like crazy at the utter injustice of it. A useful benchmark for any civilised society would be equal waiting times in urination waiting times. I’m seeking out studies on this. Comradely Chat in the Queue Back in my queue, I endeavoured to spark some friendly chat flowing about this new situation of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and remarked something along the lines of: “Well, this is an irksome change, doesn’t it boys?” A fellow smiled, a second looked blank, a third appeared embarrassed. Another rolled his eyes as if this was yet another manifestation of modern woes, woke madness etc. For the most part, silence reigned. A man exited, zipping up. The line advanced a spot. Another two men took a place at the rear of it. I let out a breath. A Knowing Exchange A woman glided out of the neighbouring restroom, all fragrant and at ease. It was all right for some. I grinned bashfully at her, endeavouring to express an understanding of this reversed situation. Her response was: “Don't turn to me for sympathy, you blighter. Come back when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and then I might give you the courtesy.” Actually, she didn’t say that. She uttered a word. But I am convinced that’s what she was implying. And I truly wouldn’t fault her.