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In the run-up to Christmas, I experienced an remarkable episode. I feel it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a meeting of a group of longtime companions, who are incidentally dentists, but that’s not important. The present party were solely men, which turns out to be key.

A Strange Situation

The location was a bar and eatery experiencing a brisk business. A wasted session was shared by the group. Good food, nice libations and surprisingly humorous stories about oral health. As expected, the point dawned for excursions to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I partially registered, looked to be gone a significant period. I didn't ponder the reason this might have been, but when it came to my turn, all became clear.

Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. Not a single person waiting for the female facilities, but a considerable queue for the men’s. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering recognised.

A Taste of Common Reality

Let me state unequivocally, I neither court nor expect empathy from any woman here. I am obviously conscious that, for females, being forced to wait to use a restroom is the norm. Repeatedly have I witnessed women queuing in a line while men in the same establishment have to do the opposite?

Beyond the hassle of standing in line to use a toilet, there’s a hint of indignity about lingering there, waiting for something that men typically don’t have to endure. It was truly bracing to have a sample of it myself, seeing the other sex breeze through the portal while I was obliged to stand solemnly in queue with my companions, looking distractedly at anything we had in our trouser pockets and scrolling through our handsets.

The Genre of Lavatory Queue Chitchat

There’s a complete conversational genre here – lavatory line banter – of which men have little familiarity. Ladies, I presume, have become adept to be quite proficient at it, engaging in pleasantries and an notable insight or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some female friends of my acquaintance. The general agreement is that queue-based communication is confined to the rare weary glance and the phrase: “Screw this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A workmate told me it’s merely at the hand-washing stations subsequently that conversation tends to start up.

Were I a female, I’d not spend a moment on both niceties or silence. If I was compelled, over and over, to stand in a common queue merely for the privilege to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the sheer unfairness of it. A useful benchmark for any civilised community would be equal waiting times in urination lining-up periods. I’m researching research on this.

Brotherly Interaction in the Line

Returning to my wait, I attempted to spark some male camaraderie started about this new situation of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and remarked something like: “So, this makes an unpleasant change, right chaps?”

A fellow smiled, another seemed nonplussed, a third individual seemed awkward. Yet another gave a dismissive wave as if this was one more example of modern woes, political correctness etc. For the most part, stillness prevailed. An individual exited, fastening his trousers. The queue moved forward a spot. Another two men took a place at the rear of it. I let out a breath.

A Silent Moment

A woman emerged out of the next-door facility, all fresh and unhurried. It was all right for some. I beamed bashfully at her, endeavouring to communicate an understanding of this topsy-turvy situation. She said: “Don't come to me for solidarity, you blighter. Return when you’ve endured this on a regular basis and at that point I might give you the time.”

In reality, she did not utter that. She didn’t say anything. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I really wouldn’t censure her.