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In the run-up to Christmas, I experienced an extraordinary situation. I believe it proved instructive. This took place at a gathering of some old friends, who are incidentally dental professionals, but that’s not important. The present group were all blokes, which proves to be significant.

A Novel Situation

The establishment was a bar and eatery experiencing a brisk business. A wasted daytime was enjoyed by everyone. Good cuisine, fine libations and remarkably humorous stories about oral health. Naturally, the point came for excursions to the male facilities. Those who departed, I partially registered, looked to be gone a significant period. I didn’t dwell on the reason this might have been, but when it became me next, all became clear.

Rounding the corner, and what should I find but a sizeable procession for the gentlemen’s toilet. An empty space for the ladies' room, but a substantial line for the men’s. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering knew.

A Taste of the Norm

Let me state unequivocally, I neither court nor expect empathy from any female reader here. I am fully cognizant that, for females, needing to line up to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I seen women standing in a row while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

Beyond the annoyance of having to queue to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about lingering there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly sobering to have a sample of it myself, watching the women glide through the portal while I was obliged to wait patiently in line with my mates, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our pockets and consulting our handsets.

The Practice of Lavatory Queue Chitchat

There’s a entire style of dialogue here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have scant knowledge. Women, I surmise, have become adept to be rather good at it, exchanging small talk and an notable observation or two.

About this topic I’ve asked some women of my knowledge. The general agreement is that queue-based interaction is confined to the odd weary glance and the utterance: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the male.” A workmate informed me it’s only at the sinks subsequently that chat tends to start up.

If I was a woman, I’d not spend a moment on both niceties or reticence. If I was compelled, over and over, to stand in a public line only for the chance to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like nobody’s business at the pure inequity of it. A valuable benchmark for any civilised culture would be balanced access in urination waiting times. I’m researching data on this.

Comradely Interaction in the Procession

Back in my queue, I tried to initiate some male camaraderie started about this new situation of ours. I tutted a bit, showed exasperation and uttered something along the lines of: “Ah, this represents an disagreeable difference, right boys?”

Someone smiled, another appeared confused, a third seemed awkward. Yet another shook his head as if this was one more symptom of a failing society, woke madness etc. Otherwise, quiet prevailed. Someone emerged, zipping up. The line moved forward a spot. A couple more men entered the back of it. I exhaled.

A Silent Interaction

A female wafted out of the neighbouring toilet, all clean and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I smiled apologetically at her, attempting to convey recognition of this reversed state of affairs. She said: “Don’t look to me for support, you jerk. Return when you’ve done this a hundred more times and only then I could give you the time.”

In reality, she did not utter that. She said anything. But I know that’s what she was feeling. And I honestly could not blame her.