So, I was having dinner with my Husband the other night. Just the two of us. Alone, without the children. It was our first child-free, fancy-pants dinner since Baby 3 was born and it was going really well. We’d only spent the first course talking about the kids which I think is pretty good. I’m starting to realise the more children you have, the less you talk about them when you are finally free of them (insert slow shaking of the head and “I should feel bad for thinking that” look).

My Husband got up to use the toilet and I sat and looked about the room (well, stared at other people and tried to eavesdrop on their conversations). Luckily, my Husband returned quite quickly, saving me from really embarrassing myself with my obvious nosiness. It’s a family trait – we all do it. We are starers. We stare at people at restaurants and try and work out what they’re talking about. And if we can’t hear properly we make up stories about them. The drunker we get, the more detailed the stories become. Of course, they can’t hear us. No way. When we are drunk we are VERY QUIET.

Anyway, I digress. Leaning forward over the table and quickly glancing to the side, my Husband whispered: “Man, I hate going to public toilets. You’re there standing next to some stranger and they always try and chat to you. I don’t want to talk to someone I don’t know while I’m taking a piss.” Being the nosey person I am my first response was: “What do men talk about? What do you say to someone when they’ve got their dick hanging out?” And then he recounted the conversation that took place between two other guys who were pissing at the urinal. Guy 1: “Wouldn’t it be cool if they had a pipe coming out the wall with beer coming out of it, so you could drink beer and piss at the same time. In one way, out the other.” Guy 2: “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

Here I was thinking they’d be discussing boobs, but in actual fact it’s beer and pissing. Fuck me. Now, I’m jealous of not being able to hide in the cubicle and listen to the conversations going on between the men. Some men really are complex human beings.

I mean, there’s so much more going on in the women’s toilets. Discussions about lipstick, clothes, blokes and kids. And yes, some women even dare to ask others if their bum looks big in their pants. In case you’re wondering, the right answer is: “Of course not, you look gorgeous”. Sometimes, there’s the: “Can you check the back of my dress to see if there’s any blood on it” or “I’m soooo pissed” or “I love you, I really, really love you. You are my bestest friend in the whole, wide world”. Sometimes, all you hear is a faint trickle of wee, the odd escaped fart and later in the night you get tears and: “He’s such a bastard. I hate him”.

The last time I went to the toilet at the pub, there was a picture of “girls” in bikinis advertising something. I truly don’t remember what it was for, as I was too busy looking at their perky boobs and tight arses to care. It was cruel and simply, a waste of time. Women don’t want to go to places where the other women look like that.

The other thing that caught my eye, was the lack of condom machine. In its place instead there was a hair straightener mounted on the wall. You’d have to be pretty drunk to pay to use the hair straightener in the toilet? I’d seriously doubt anyone would clean that thing (I am not old, just anally clean). I’m amazed it’s still there, I mean, there was no safety sign: “Do not operate hair straightener when pissed out of your mind or you might just burn the side of your face off and definitely do not let one of your drunk as fuck friends attempt to use it on you, or risk having your ears burnt off”. Now, that’d be something to talk about over dinner!