An Eye-Opening Encounter in the Public House Restroom Line

In the run-up to the holidays, I encountered an remarkable episode. I believe it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a get-together of several mates, who are incidentally dental professionals, but that’s not pertinent. The attending crowd were all blokes, which turns out to be key.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The venue was a pub/restaurant experiencing a excellent custom. A forgotten session was had by all. Fine cuisine, fine drink and unexpectedly humorous anecdotes about dentistry. As expected, the point dawned for excursions to the men's room. Those who departed, I half-noticed, looked to be absent a considerable while. I didn’t dwell on the reason this might have been, but when it was my turn, all became clear.

Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, 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 were accustomed to.

An Experience of Everyday Life

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for empathy from any woman here. I am obviously conscious that, for women, having to queue to use a convenience is standard practice. How many times have I witnessed women waiting in a queue while men in the comparable place have to do no such thing?

In addition to the annoyance of needing to wait to use a facility, there’s a whiff of humiliation about lingering there, waiting for something that men generally don’t have to wait for. It was truly sobering to have a sample of it myself, observing the women walk straight through the portal while I was compelled to stand solemnly in queue with my companions, angling away at whatever we had in our pockets and consulting our mobile devices.

The Art of Restroom Line Banter

There’s a complete style of dialogue here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have little experience. Ladies, I presume, have developed skills to be rather good at it, exchanging small talk and an engaging comment or two.

About this topic I’ve asked some lady acquaintances of my acquaintance. The general agreement is that intra-queue communication is restricted to the odd exasperated look and the utterance: “Screw this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A associate told me it’s merely at the sinks later that discussion tends to start up.

Had I been a woman, I’d refrain from on both small talk or quiet. If I was obliged, repeatedly, to stand in a shared procession simply for the opportunity to relieve myself, I’d express my fury like crazy at the sheer inequity of it. A handy metric for any civilised community would be equal waiting times in urination queue durations. I’m researching studies on this.

Brotherly Interaction in the Line

Back in my line, I endeavoured to get some brotherly banter going about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, showed exasperation and said something to the effect of: “So, this makes an irksome change, doesn’t it boys?”

Someone grinned, someone else seemed nonplussed, a third looked sheepish. Another shook his head as if this was a further example of a failing society, political correctness etc. Aside from that, silence prevailed. A man came out, zipping up. The line shuffled up a position. Two more men joined the end of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Exchange

A female wafted out of the adjacent toilet, all fresh and at ease. It was perfectly okay for some. I beamed sheepishly at her, attempting to convey acknowledgement of this reversed situation. Her response was: “Don't turn to me for solidarity, you jerk. Come back when you’ve done this a hundred more times and then I could give you the time of day.”

Actually, she didn’t say that. She said nothing. But I know that’s what she was feeling. And I honestly wouldn’t censure her.