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In the run-up to the holidays, I had an remarkable incident. I feel it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a gathering of a group of longtime companions, who are, as it happens dentists, but that’s not pertinent. The attending crowd were all blokes, which proves to be key.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The location was a pub/restaurant enjoying a brisk business. A wasted session was enjoyed by everyone. Good fare, good drink and remarkably amusing anecdotes about oral health. Inevitably, the moment dawned for trips to the gents. Those who departed, I partially registered, seemed to be gone a significant period. I didn't contemplate the reason this could be, but when it was my turn, all became clear.

Upon turning the bend, and what should I find but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. No queue at all for the women’s toilet, but a substantial line for the gents'. What fresh hell was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

A Sample of Everyday Life

For the avoidance of doubt, I neither court nor expect pity from any woman here. I am acutely aware that, for ladies, needing to line up to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I observed women standing in a row while men in the comparable place have to do no such thing?

Apart from the inconvenience of needing to wait to use a toilet, there’s a whiff of embarrassment about standing there, waiting for something that men typically don’t have to endure. It was decidedly enlightening to experience a dose of it myself, seeing the opposite gender glide through the door while I was obliged to line up dutifully in line with my mates, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our jackets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Practice of Lavatory Queue Chitchat

There’s a whole style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant knowledge. Women, I presume, have become adept to be fairly skilled at it, exchanging small talk and an interesting comment or two.

About this topic I’ve asked some women of my knowledge. The prevailing view is that intra-queue communication is restricted to the rare exasperated look and the phrase: “Forget this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A associate told me it’s exclusively at the hand-washing stations afterwards that chat tends to start up.

Were I a lady, I’d refrain from on both niceties or reticence. If I was compelled, time and again, to wait in a public line merely for the privilege to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the sheer injustice of it. A useful measure for any civilised culture would be gender parity in wee queue durations. I’m researching research on this.

Male Interaction in the Queue

During my time in my line, I attempted to get some friendly chat going about this new circumstance of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, showed exasperation and remarked something like: “So, this represents an unpleasant change, isn't it boys?”

One person smiled, a second appeared confused, a other man seemed awkward. Yet another gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another manifestation of a failing society, woke madness etc. For the most part, silence ensued. An individual emerged, adjusting his clothing. The group shuffled up a place. A couple more men joined the end of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Moment

A woman wafted out of the adjacent facility, all fragrant and relaxed. It was perfectly okay for some. I beamed bashfully at her, attempting to express recognition of this reversed state of affairs. She said: “Don't come to me for support, you blighter. Come back when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and then I could give you the time of day.”

Actually, she never spoke that. She uttered a word. But I believe that’s what she was thinking. And I honestly wouldn’t fault her.