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In the run-up to the festive season, I encountered an extraordinary incident. I feel it was beneficial for me. This took place at a gathering of some old friends, who happen to be tooth doctors, but that’s not relevant. The attending party were exclusively male, which is relevant.

A Strange Predicament

The establishment was a pub/restaurant experiencing a excellent custom. A lost session was shared by the group. Good food, good beverages and surprisingly entertaining stories about dentistry. Inevitably, the time came for trips to the men's room. Those who went, I vaguely observed, looked to be absent a long time. I didn't ponder the reason this could be, but when it came to me next, all became clear.

I turned the corner, and what should I find but a long queue for the gentlemen’s toilet. No queue at all for the women’s toilet, but a substantial line for the gents'. What strange new world was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this gathering recognised.

A Sample of Everyday Life

For the avoidance of doubt, I do not seek or anticipate pity from any lady here. I am acutely conscious that, for women, being forced to wait to use a restroom is the norm. How many times have I witnessed women queuing in a row while men in the identical venue have to do no such thing?

In addition to the annoyance of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of indignity about standing there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to endure. It was truly enlightening to get a taste of it myself, watching the other sex breeze through the portal while I was obliged to wait patiently in queue with my companions, angling away at anything we had in our trouser pockets and checking our mobile devices.

The Practice of Lavatory Queue Conversation

There’s a whole form of small talk here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have scant experience. Females, I presume, have learned to be rather good at it, exchanging pleasantries and an engaging comment or two.

Regarding this I’ve asked some women of my knowledge. The general agreement is that queue-based dialogue is confined to the rare exasperated look and the comment: “Screw this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A associate told me it’s only at the sinks afterwards that discussion tends to begin.

Were I a female, I’d refrain from on either niceties or silence. If I was compelled, time and again, to queue in a common queue merely for the chance to relieve myself, I’d rant angrily like crazy at the utter inequity of it. A valuable measure for any advanced community would be equal waiting times in wee queue durations. I’m seeking out data on this.

Male Interaction in the Queue

During my time in my wait, I attempted to get some brotherly banter started about this unprecedented circumstance of ours. I sighed a bit, gave a weary look and uttered something to the effect of: “So, this is an disagreeable change, isn't it chaps?”

Someone grinned, another appeared confused, a third seemed awkward. Another shook his head as if this was a further example of a failing society, political correctness etc. Otherwise, silence prevailed. A man emerged, zipping up. The group moved forward a place. A couple more men joined the end of it. I sighed.

A Silent Moment

A female glided out of the adjacent facility, all clean and unhurried. It was perfectly okay for some. I beamed sheepishly at her, endeavouring to convey an understanding of this reversed situation. She said: “Don't come to me for support, you bastard. Return when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and only then I might give you the time of day.”

In reality, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I truly wouldn’t fault her.