🔗 Share this article

Just before the holidays, I encountered an extraordinary situation. I feel it was beneficial for me. This took place at a meeting of a group of longtime companions, who are, as it happens dentists, but this isn't important. The attending party were solely men, which proves to be key.

A Strange Situation

The location was a tavern enjoying a excellent custom. A wasted session was enjoyed by everyone. Good cuisine, nice libations and surprisingly entertaining anecdotes about oral health. Naturally, the point arrived for visits to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I vaguely observed, appeared to be absent a significant period. I didn't ponder the reason this could be, but when it was my go, all became clear.

Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. An empty space for the female facilities, but a substantial line for the men’s. What strange new world was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this gathering recognised.

A Taste of the Norm

For the avoidance of doubt, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any lady here. I am obviously aware that, for females, needing to line up to use a restroom is the norm. Repeatedly have I observed women standing in a line while men in the comparable place have to do the opposite?

In addition to the annoyance of standing in line to use a toilet, there’s a whiff of indignity about lingering there, waiting for something that men typically don’t have to experience. It was decidedly sobering to experience a dose of it myself, watching the other sex breeze through the entrance while I was obliged to wait patiently in queue with my fellow fellas, angling away at anything we had in our trouser pockets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Practice of Lavatory Queue Banter

There’s a whole style of dialogue here – lavatory line banter – of which men have little knowledge. Females, I imagine, have learned to be rather good at it, engaging in pleasantries and an interesting insight or two.

About this topic I’ve polled some women of my circle. The general agreement is that intra-queue communication is limited to the odd exasperated look and the comment: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the male.” A workmate informed me it’s only at the sinks later that conversation tends to start up.

If I was a woman, I’d waste no time on either small talk or reticence. If I was forced, over and over, to wait in a common queue merely for the privilege to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like nobody’s business at the pure injustice of it. A handy measure for any advanced community would be balanced access in urination waiting times. I’m seeking out studies on this.

Male Banter in the Line

During my time in my wait, I attempted to spark some brotherly banter started about this new state of affairs of ours. I sighed a bit, showed exasperation and said something to the effect of: “Ah, this represents an disagreeable change, right lads?”

One person smiled, someone else looked blank, a third individual looked sheepish. A further person rolled his eyes as if this was a further manifestation of a failing society, woke madness etc. Aside from that, stillness reigned. A man emerged, fastening his trousers. The line moved forward a spot. Two more men joined the end of it. I let out a breath.

An Unspoken Exchange

A female glided out of the adjacent toilet, all fresh and unhurried. It was just fine for some. I grinned apologetically at her, attempting to convey an understanding of this upside-down state of affairs. She said: “Don't come to me for solidarity, you blighter. Come back when you’ve endured this another hundred times and only then I could give you the time of day.”

Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She said anything. But I believe that’s what she was feeling. And I truly wouldn’t blame her.