A Truly Eye-Opening Experience in the Pub Restroom Queue

In the run-up to the holidays, I encountered an unusual situation. I believe it was beneficial for me. This happened at a get-together of some old friends, who happen to be tooth doctors, but it's not important. The attending crowd were exclusively male, which turns out to be significant.

An Unfamiliar Situation

The establishment was a pub/restaurant doing a excellent custom. A lost afternoon was enjoyed by everyone. Good fare, fine beverages and surprisingly entertaining anecdotes about oral health. As expected, the time dawned for visits to the men's room. Those who ventured off, I half-noticed, looked to be away a significant period. I didn't ponder the reason this was, but when it was my go, the mystery was solved.

I turned the corner, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the gents' lavatory. No queue at all for the women’s toilet, but a substantial line for the men's. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this queue knew.

A Sample of the Norm

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for pity from any lady here. I am fully conscious that, for women, needing to line up to use a public toilet is the norm. How many times have I seen women waiting in a queue while men in the identical venue have to do no such thing?

Beyond the inconvenience of having to queue to use a convenience, there’s a hint of embarrassment about standing there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to experience. It was decidedly bracing to get a taste of it myself, observing the other sex breeze through the door while I was compelled to stand solemnly with others with my mates, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our trouser pockets and checking our handsets.

The Practice of Lavatory Queue Conversation

There’s a whole form of small talk here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have minimal experience. Ladies, I surmise, have become adept to be fairly skilled at it, exchanging small talk and an engaging observation or two.

Regarding this I’ve consulted some lady acquaintances of my circle. The general agreement is that queue-based communication is confined to the rare eye roll and the phrase: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A associate told me it’s only at the sinks subsequently that discussion tends to begin.

If I was a lady, I’d waste no time on both niceties or reticence. If I was compelled, over and over, to stand in a public line only for the opportunity to relieve myself, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the sheer unfairness of it. A handy measure for any advanced culture would be gender parity in wee lining-up periods. I’m seeking out research on this.

Brotherly Banter in the Procession

Back in my queue, I tried to spark some friendly chat flowing about this new state of affairs of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, showed exasperation and said something along the lines of: “So, this makes an irksome change, isn't it lads?”

Someone smiled, another seemed nonplussed, a third individual appeared embarrassed. A further person rolled his eyes as if this was a further manifestation of a failing society, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, stillness prevailed. An individual emerged, fastening his trousers. The line moved forward a position. Another two men joined the end of it. I let out a breath.

A Silent Moment

A woman wafted out of the neighbouring toilet, all fresh and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I grinned sheepishly at her, trying to express an understanding of this topsy-turvy scenario. Her response was: “Don't turn to me for sympathy, you blighter. Reappear when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and at that point I could give you the time of day.”

Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything. But I am convinced that’s what she was thinking. And I really would not blame her.