🔗 Share this article

In the run-up to the holidays, I experienced an remarkable incident. I think it was beneficial for me. This happened at a meeting of several mates, who are incidentally dental professionals, but it's not pertinent. The present group were solely men, which turns out to be key.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The establishment was a bar and eatery experiencing a brisk business. A forgotten afternoon was enjoyed by everyone. Fine food, nice drink and unexpectedly humorous stories about teeth. Naturally, the moment came for visits to the men's room. Those who ventured off, I half-noticed, seemed to be absent a considerable while. I didn't ponder why this was, but when it came to me next, all became clear.

Upon turning the bend, and what did I discover but a long queue for the men's restroom. No queue at all for the ladies' room, but a considerable queue for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this line knew.

An Experience of Everyday Life

For the avoidance of doubt, I do not seek or anticipate pity from any female reader here. I am acutely aware that, for ladies, being forced to wait to use a restroom is standard practice. On countless occasions have I observed women waiting in a queue while men in the same establishment have to do the opposite?

In addition to the annoyance of standing in line to use a toilet, there’s a hint of embarrassment about standing there, awaiting something that men typically don’t have to wait for. It was profoundly sobering to have a sample of it myself, observing the opposite gender glide through the entrance while I was obliged to stand solemnly with others with my companions, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our jackets and consulting our phones.

The Practice of Toilet Queue Banter

There’s a complete form of small talk here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have little experience. Women, I presume, have learned to be quite proficient at it, sharing pleasantries and an engaging observation or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some lady acquaintances of my circle. The prevailing view is that queue-based dialogue is restricted to the odd eye roll and the comment: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague mentioned it’s merely at the washbasins subsequently that discussion tends to break out.

Were I a woman, I’d not spend a moment on either niceties or silence. If I was obliged, over and over, to queue in a public line only for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like nobody’s business at the utter inequity of it. A handy benchmark for any advanced culture would be gender parity in toilet queue durations. I’m looking for research on this.

Comradely Interaction in the Queue

Returning to my wait, I attempted to initiate some brotherly banter going about this new situation of ours. I tutted a bit, showed exasperation and remarked something to the effect of: “So, this is an unpleasant variation, isn't it boys?”

Someone chuckled, someone else appeared confused, a other man seemed awkward. Yet another rolled his eyes as if this was yet another example of broken Britain, woke madness etc. Otherwise, silence ensued. A man exited, zipping up. The group moved forward a position. A couple more men entered the end of it. I let out a breath.

A Silent Exchange

A woman wafted out of the adjacent restroom, all clean and at ease. It was just fine for some. I beamed bashfully at her, endeavouring to convey acknowledgement of this upside-down situation. She said: “Don't turn to me for support, you bastard. Return when you’ve endured this another hundred times and at that point I may give you the time of day.”

In reality, she did not utter that. She uttered nothing. But I know that’s what she was feeling. And I honestly wouldn’t blame her.