A Truly Revelatory Incident in the Pub Lavatory Queue

In the run-up to the holidays, I experienced an remarkable incident. I think it proved instructive. This took place at a meeting of a group of longtime companions, who happen to be dentists, but that’s not pertinent. The present group were exclusively male, which turns out to be relevant.

An Unfamiliar Situation

The establishment was a tavern doing a brisk business. A lost session was had by all. Nice food, good drink and unexpectedly amusing anecdotes about oral health. Naturally, the time came for trips to the male facilities. Those who went, I vaguely observed, looked to be absent a considerable while. I didn't contemplate why this could be, but when it became my turn, all became clear.

Rounding the corner, and what should I find but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. No queue at all for the ladies' room, but a great long one for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this line knew.

A Taste of Everyday Life

Let me state unequivocally, I do not seek or anticipate empathy from any lady here. I am obviously aware that, for ladies, needing to line up to use a convenience is standard practice. How many times have I witnessed women standing in a row while men in the identical venue have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the annoyance of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a whiff of embarrassment about lingering there, awaiting something that men typically don’t have to experience. It was profoundly bracing to have a sample of it myself, seeing the other sex walk straight through the portal while I was obliged to line up dutifully with others with my fellow fellas, fiddling at anything we had in our jackets and consulting our mobile devices.

The Practice of Restroom Line Chitchat

There’s a entire conversational genre here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have little knowledge. Women, I presume, have developed skills to be rather good at it, exchanging small talk and an engaging observation or two.

Regarding this I’ve asked some women of my acquaintance. The consensus is that intra-queue dialogue is confined to the rare exasperated look and the phrase: “Screw this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A associate informed me it’s only at the sinks afterwards that conversation tends to break out.

Had I been a female, I’d refrain from on either small talk or reticence. If I was obliged, over and over, to stand in a common queue merely for the privilege to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like crazy at the pure inequity of it. A handy measure for any civilised culture would be equal waiting times in urination queue durations. I’m seeking out studies on this.

Male Chat in the Line

Back in my line, I attempted to initiate some male camaraderie started about this novel situation of ours. I sighed a bit, gave a weary look and uttered something along the lines of: “Well, this is an unpleasant difference, doesn’t it boys?”

Someone chuckled, someone else looked blank, a third individual looked sheepish. Yet another shook his head as if this was one more symptom of modern woes, cultural decline etc. Otherwise, stillness reigned. Someone came out, zipping up. The line advanced a position. Another two men took a place at the rear of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Interaction

A female glided out of the next-door restroom, all fragrant and at ease. It was all right for some. I beamed sheepishly at her, attempting to express recognition of this upside-down situation. She remarked: “Don't come to me for sympathy, you blighter. Come back when you’ve experienced this on a regular basis and then I might give you the time of day.”

Truthfully, she never spoke that. She didn’t say a word. But I believe that’s what she was feeling. And I truly wouldn’t fault her.