When a friend told me she was installing his and hers en-suite bathrooms as part of her home renovation, the idea seemed not only preposterously extravagant but also kind of sad. What about the true romance of habitual intimacy? Wasn’t a marriage made of daily moments of proximity and connection, such as brushing your teeth alongside one another morning and night?
What a rose-tinted fool I was. I should add that this was more than a decade ago. We were in our early thirties and most of us could only dream of the funds to splurge on separate bathrooms.
Not that we are wildly better off now. But recent reports suggest that “bathroom divorce” is on the rise, with the New York Post featuring the interior designer Debbie Wiener, who blew $100,000 (£77,000) on a shared bathroom with side-by-side sinks but separate toilets.
Michelle Obama has also said publicly that separate bathrooms are the key to a successful marriage, while Joan Collins and Melania Trump have shared similar sentiments, though I’m sure that whatever the Trumps’ deal is, no one really expects Melania to share a home or a bed with Donald, much less a toilet.
“As you get older, your gastrointestinal needs change,” Wiener said in defence of her sanitary separation.
“My husband’s habits didn’t age well. One toilet wasn’t cutting it. We each have a private room and nobody knows what’s going on. With two toilets, I am a much happier person. At home, I have toilet nirvana.”
Without Wiener’s budget, I have secured a fairly successful bathroom divorce of my own. It has certainly saved my mornings, and smoothed over so many grumpy moments in my decade of marriage. If I’d known how liberating it would feel, I’d have included it in my (fictional) prenup. Just like Wiener, I am much happier. I’m not sure what toilet nirvana is or whether I’ve experienced it, but I am thrilled not to have to share.
It’s not that I’m selfish. I’ve always been happy to share things whether food or clothes or, until recently, a bathroom. Yet, possibly because I’m the youngest of three, I’ve always yearned to have things that are specifically mine, too. Things that I can choose to share but can keep to myself if I wish.
Most people cite the obvious malodorous behaviour as the reason for their bathroom break-up, but mine is less to do with unsettled stomachs than starting the day right.
For about six years, I couldn’t go for a wee without my daughter either coming with me or calling for me. For almost a decade, warm showers have been interrupted by icy blasts of air as someone flings the door open.
The beneficial effects of steaming water and scented shower gel soon dissipate when you’re required to identify the whereabouts of socks, shirts and school books while washing the suds out of your hair.
When we extended our three-bed semi to add a loft bedroom with an en suite, intended for guests, I hadn’t expected to appropriate it for myself. It wasn’t used much for the first year or so and felt like a slightly redundant luxury.
But I was becoming increasingly enervated at not having even five minutes to myself in the bathroom to get ready for the day without interruption or confrontation.
I had spent my every last penny, and many years of future pennies, on improving our home, and needed to claim some of it back.
The answer was there all along. I decamped to the loft bathroom where peace and quiet and my own products prevail. Bliss.
Indoor plumbing was an afterthought in my Edwardian property but second bathrooms are now extremely desirable. The English Housing Survey found that 22 per cent of homes had a second bathroom in 2009, with 41 per cent having a second toilet.
By 2019 these figures had risen to 27 per cent with a second bathroom and 46 per cent a second toilet, rising to 47.3 per cent and 65.3 per cent among those in a higher tax bracket. The Times recently reported that bathrooms are so in demand these days that changing a bedroom into a bathroom can add value to your home, even though property has traditionally been valued based on numbers of bedrooms.
The two-sink design that Wiener installed is nothing new, but it came from large homes designed for modern comforts and hotel bathrooms, not the narrow period homes or cramped new builds so many people have in the UK.
What is more, it demands you buy double the goods: two sinks, sets of taps, mirrors, lights etc. You might as well save your money for a second bathroom.
I can imagine that men might be more frustrated than women at sharing a bathroom given they often have more products. I remember female housemates who would use reams of cotton wool to remove their make-up and leave these lying around for days.
My husband isn’t messy, he just can’t help himself from drilling me with logistical enquiries while I’m still in the zone between sleep and my morning shower. If it was up to him, we’d share everything. Probably even a - gag - toothbrush. But he must see the benefits of our bathroom divorce as he now, extremely generously, cleans my bathroom for me.
I’ve heard people saying that fixes like sleep divorce and therefore bathroom divorce are kicking the problems down the line. I can see their point and have often thought that sleep divorce sounds like a stepping stone to actual divorce, but my husband doesn’t snore so I’ve not felt the need to trial it.
Our entente cordiale will be tested in the next few years when my daughter asks to move out of her little-girl room and into the loft, taking over my bathroom sanctuary.
For now, I’m keeping it to myself, though I will admit one small guest: my dog follows me to the bathroom and waits by the door.
Thankfully, she is the most gentle of morning companions, and has never asked for clean pants or a second breakfast before I’ve brushed my teeth.