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In the run-up to the holidays, I experienced an extraordinary incident. I believe it proved instructive. This happened at a meeting of several mates, who are incidentally dentists, but this isn't pertinent. The present party were solely men, which turns out to be relevant.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The establishment was a pub/restaurant experiencing a excellent custom. A wasted session was enjoyed by everyone. Fine fare, good libations and surprisingly humorous anecdotes about dentistry. Naturally, the time arrived for trips to the men's room. Those who ventured off, I vaguely observed, appeared to be absent a considerable while. I didn't contemplate why this was, but when it came to my turn, everything was revealed.

Upon turning the bend, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. No queue at all for the women’s toilet, but a great long one for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this line recognised.

A Sample of Common Reality

To be perfectly clear, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any female reader here. I am obviously aware that, for females, having to queue to use a restroom is standard practice. On countless occasions have I seen women queuing in a queue while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the annoyance of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a whiff of indignity about standing there, anticipating something that men typically don’t have to endure. It was decidedly sobering to get a taste of it myself, watching the other sex walk straight through the door while I was obliged to stand solemnly in line with my companions, looking distractedly at something we had in our pockets and checking our phones.

The Art of Restroom Line Banter

There’s a whole conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant knowledge. Ladies, I surmise, have developed skills to be rather good at it, engaging in small talk and an interesting comment or two.

Regarding this I’ve polled some female friends of my acquaintance. The general agreement is that within-the-line interaction is limited to the odd eye roll and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the male.” A colleague mentioned it’s only at the washbasins subsequently that chat tends to start up.

Were I a female, I’d not spend a moment on either pleasantries or quiet. If I was compelled, over and over, to stand in a shared procession only for the opportunity to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the pure injustice of it. A handy measure for any civilised community would be gender parity in toilet queue durations. I’m looking for studies on this.

Comradely Banter in the Line

Back in my wait, I attempted to spark some friendly chat going about this new state of affairs of ours. I sighed a bit, gave a weary look and said something along the lines of: “Ah, this is an disagreeable variation, doesn’t it chaps?”

A fellow smiled, someone else seemed nonplussed, a other man looked sheepish. Yet another rolled his eyes as if this was one more manifestation of a failing society, woke madness etc. Otherwise, quiet reigned. An individual came out, zipping up. The queue moved forward a position. Two more men entered the rear of it. I let out a breath.

An Unspoken Interaction

A woman emerged out of the next-door toilet, all fragrant and unhurried. It was all right for some. I grinned apologetically at her, trying to communicate recognition of this reversed situation. Her response was: “Don't turn to me for support, you blighter. Return when you’ve done this another hundred times and at that point I could give you the courtesy.”

Actually, she didn’t say that. She said a word. But I am convinced that’s what she was implying. And I honestly could not fault her.