Diary of a Gen Z Student: My favourite part of being a girl? The nightclub bathroom

Jane Cowan is a student in Trinity College Dublin, where she is in her second year, studying English.

No man is an island? I wonder what John Donne would say about the girls’ bathroom in a nightclub.

If I’m honest, my favourite part of being a girl is the girls’ bathroom in a nightclub. 

I actually pity the lads – they don’t know what they’re missing out on. 

They never seem to understand why we like to travel in packs to the bathroom. 

The excitement, the comradery, the opportunity to talk about what’s going on outside the bathroom. 

If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say about 40% of the girls in that bathroom didn’t need to go in the first place. 

What’s the point in going, if you don’t bring your friends?

There are very strict protocols in place once you cross that threshold into the girls’ bathroom. 

This is a safe space. Every girl is your newest best friend. We share everything.

Lip-gloss, tampons, bobby pins. What’s mine is yours. Or hers, rather.

The most crucial protocol we follow in the girls’ bathroom: Under no circumstances can we allow any girl to get back together with an ex. 

Even if you have no idea who this girl is. Even if her ex is Jesus himself, the details do not matter. 

The bathroom will turn into this bizarre sort of psychotherapy clinic, at the mention of any girl going back to an ex.

Girl psychotherapy is like nothing you’ve seen before. 

And it always comes to the same conclusion. 

You’re too good for him. He doesn’t deserve you. I wouldn’t touch that guy with a 10ft pole.

The best piece of advice I’ve ever heard dished out in this situation is coming to mind. 

“Only an eejit would try to read a book backwards, and you’re seriously thinking of going back to someone who doesn’t even know how to turn on the washing machine?”

No one is leaving that bathroom until that girl has received the pep-talk of her life.

Once you leave the bathroom, you can witness another talent we girls possess. Dealing with pest-y males. We are masters of that craft.

Girl code means that the girls are all on the same side. This rule exists, whether or not you know the other girl. 

I have seen genuine fear in the eyes of a man, as my best friend screamed at him to have some manners. 

She is particularly adept when it comes to dealing with pest-y boys. 

But the best part is, she would do that for any girl. It’s our battlefield. And we leave no woman behind.

Perhaps the next best part of being a young woman is the girls’ group chat. Nothing is off limits, least of all the latest advances in your love life. 

Every girl has a good story that starts with a male suitor shooting their proverbial shot. And nothing fires up the group chat like a good text from a boy. 

If only these boys knew how much free fuel their often peculiar sexual advances provide for the girls’ group chat. It sends us into a frenzy. We have questions, and we need answers. 

In search of answers, a Sherlock-style investigation quickly gets underway. We look him up, check his followers, and recent posts, and cross-reference with his other social media accounts. 

Safe to say, the investigation does not always work out in his favour. We might get bad vibes. But the group chat always lives to investigate another day.

There is an innate sense of sisterhood between us girls. Whether we’re on a night out or not. Anyone who has ever walked into a hair salon knows what I mean by sisterhood. 

But let me let you in something, you’ve never truly gotten a haircut unless it has come with a side of life advice, free of charge. 

I trust this woman with my hair, so of course I extend that same trust to my love life.

I mean, my hairdresser has been in my life longer than any man. And that must count for something. 

They’re some of the wisest women you’ll ever meet. They’ve heard it all. 

So, if my hairdresser sees red flags, I see red flags. Sometimes, you’ve just got to trust the experts. 

She’s probably been at this since before I was born. She knows exactly what she’s talking about.

Sure, Donne might have had a point when he said that no man is an island. 

But how many men can say the best psychotherapy they’ve ever received was while washing their hands in a nightclub? 

I’d take that over going to the bathroom alone any day.