🔗 Share this article

Shortly before the holidays, I encountered an unusual situation. I think it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a gathering of a group of longtime companions, who happen to be dentists, but that’s not relevant. The attending group were solely men, which proves to be significant.

A Novel Predicament

The venue was a bar and eatery experiencing a excellent custom. A lost session was had by all. Nice food, nice drink and remarkably humorous anecdotes about oral health. Inevitably, the time came for trips to the gents. Those who went, I half-noticed, appeared to be gone a considerable while. I didn't contemplate why this might have been, but when it was my go, the mystery was solved.

Upon turning the bend, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the gents' lavatory. No queue at all for the female facilities, but a considerable queue for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

A Sample of Common Reality

For the avoidance of doubt, I neither court nor expect sympathy from any woman here. I am obviously cognizant that, for women, needing to line up to use a restroom is standard practice. How many times have I observed women queuing in a row while men in the same establishment have to do no such thing?

Apart from the annoyance of needing to wait to use a facility, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about standing there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to experience. It was profoundly enlightening to get a taste of it myself, watching the other sex glide through the portal while I was compelled to line up dutifully with others with my fellow fellas, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our jackets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Genre of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a whole conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant familiarity. Women, I imagine, have learned to be quite proficient at it, engaging in polite remarks and an engaging comment or two.

Regarding this I’ve asked some lady acquaintances of my acquaintance. The consensus is that intra-queue communication is confined to the occasional eye roll and the comment: “Screw this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague mentioned it’s only at the sinks afterwards that conversation tends to start up.

Had I been a lady, I’d waste no time on either pleasantries or reticence. If I was forced, over and over, to queue in a common queue only for the privilege to use the toilet, I’d vent my spleen like crazy at the sheer inequity of it. A valuable metric for any modern society would be balanced access in urination waiting times. I’m seeking out data on this.

Brotherly Banter in the Queue

During my time in my line, I endeavoured to initiate some male camaraderie flowing about this novel state of affairs of ours. I sighed a bit, rolled my eyes and remarked something along the lines of: “Well, this is an disagreeable difference, isn't it lads?”

One person grinned, a second seemed nonplussed, a other man seemed awkward. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another example of modern woes, woke madness etc. For the most part, quiet prevailed. A man exited, zipping up. The line moved forward a place. Another two men took a place at the end of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Exchange

A lady emerged out of the neighbouring restroom, all fragrant and unhurried. It was just fine for some. I beamed apologetically at her, endeavouring to communicate recognition of this upside-down situation. She remarked: “Don’t look to me for support, you jerk. Return when you’ve done this another hundred times and then I might give you the courtesy.”

In reality, she didn’t say that. She said a word. But I believe that’s what she was feeling. And I truly could not censure her.