An Illuminating Encounter in the Bar Restroom Line

Shortly before the holidays, I encountered an unusual episode. I think it was beneficial for me. This took place at a meeting of several mates, who are incidentally dentists, but it's not relevant. The assembled group were exclusively male, which proves to be significant.

A Strange Scenario

The venue was a tavern enjoying a excellent custom. A lost afternoon was shared by the group. Fine fare, fine libations and remarkably amusing tales about oral health. Naturally, the moment dawned for visits to the male facilities. Those who went, I partially registered, appeared to be absent a significant period. I didn’t dwell on the reason this might have been, but when it came to me next, all became clear.

Upon turning the bend, and what should I find but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. An empty space for the ladies' room, but a substantial line for the men's. What fresh hell was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

A Sample of Everyday Life

Let me state unequivocally, I neither court nor expect pity from any female reader here. I am fully aware that, for ladies, needing to line up to use a public toilet is the norm. Repeatedly have I witnessed women waiting in a queue while men in the same establishment have to do nothing of the sort?

Apart from the hassle of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of humiliation about waiting there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to wait for. It was profoundly bracing to get a taste of it myself, watching the opposite gender glide through the portal while I was forced to wait patiently in queue with my companions, fiddling at anything we had in our trouser pockets and scrolling through our handsets.

The Practice of Toilet Queue Banter

There’s a whole form of small talk here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have little experience. Females, I presume, have developed skills to be rather good at it, exchanging polite remarks and an interesting insight or two.

About this topic I’ve polled some female friends of my knowledge. The consensus is that within-the-line communication is confined to the rare weary glance and the phrase: “Forget this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague mentioned it’s merely at the sinks afterwards that discussion tends to break out.

If I was a lady, I’d not spend a moment on either niceties or reticence. If I was obliged, over and over, to stand in a shared procession simply for the privilege to empty my bladder, I’d vent my spleen like there was no tomorrow at the sheer injustice of it. A handy metric for any modern community would be gender parity in wee lining-up periods. I’m seeking out research on this.

Brotherly Chat in the Procession

Returning to my line, I tried to initiate some male camaraderie going about this new circumstance of ours. I tutted a bit, showed exasperation and remarked something along the lines of: “Well, this represents an irksome variation, right lads?”

A fellow smiled, someone else looked blank, a other man seemed awkward. Yet another gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another manifestation of a failing society, woke madness etc. For the most part, quiet ensued. Someone exited, fastening his trousers. The queue moved forward a place. Another two men entered the rear of it. I sighed.

A Silent Interaction

A female emerged out of the neighbouring toilet, all fragrant and at ease. It was just fine for some. I beamed bashfully at her, attempting to communicate an understanding of this reversed scenario. She remarked: “Don't come to me for sympathy, you bastard. Come back when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and at that point I might give you the time.”

Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say a word. But I believe that’s what she was feeling. And I truly would not censure her.