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In the run-up to Christmas, I had an remarkable situation. I feel it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a gathering of several mates, who are, as it happens tooth doctors, but that’s not important. The assembled group were exclusively male, which turns out to be relevant.

A Novel Situation

The establishment was a bar and eatery enjoying a excellent custom. A wasted afternoon was had by all. Fine food, fine beverages and unexpectedly entertaining stories about teeth. Inevitably, the point dawned for visits to the gents. Those who departed, I half-noticed, looked to be absent a significant period. I didn’t dwell on the reason this could be, but when it became me next, everything was revealed.

Rounding the corner, 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 considerable queue for the men’s. What bizarre turn was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this gathering knew.

A Sample of Common Reality

Let me state unequivocally, I am not asking for empathy from any lady here. I am acutely conscious that, for females, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. Repeatedly have I witnessed women waiting in a line while men in the identical venue have to do no such thing?

In addition to the inconvenience of needing to wait to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about lingering there, waiting for something that men usually don’t have to endure. It was profoundly bracing to get a taste of it myself, watching the women walk straight through the entrance while I was compelled to wait patiently in queue with my mates, angling away at something we had in our pockets and scrolling through our phones.

The Genre of Restroom Line Conversation

There’s a complete conversational genre here – lavatory line banter – of which men have little familiarity. Ladies, I imagine, have developed skills to be quite proficient at it, engaging in polite remarks and an interesting observation or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some female friends of my knowledge. The consensus 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 later that conversation tends to start up.

If I was a female, I’d waste no time on both small talk or silence. If I was obliged, repeatedly, to stand in a shared procession merely for the privilege to empty my bladder, I’d vent my spleen like crazy at the utter unfairness of it. A useful metric for any advanced community would be gender parity in wee waiting times. I’m looking for data on this.

Male Banter in the Queue

During my time in my wait, I tried to initiate some male camaraderie started about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and said something like: “Ah, this represents an unpleasant difference, doesn’t it lads?”

One person grinned, someone else seemed nonplussed, a third individual looked sheepish. Yet another gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another manifestation of a failing society, political correctness etc. Otherwise, quiet ensued. A man exited, zipping up. The line moved forward a place. Two more men entered the rear of it. I exhaled.

A Knowing Interaction

A woman emerged out of the next-door restroom, all fresh and unhurried. It was just fine for some. I smiled bashfully at her, endeavouring to communicate acknowledgement of this topsy-turvy scenario. Her response was: “Don't come to me for support, you jerk. Return when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and at that point I may give you the time.”

Actually, she never spoke that. She didn’t say anything. But I believe that’s what she was feeling. And I truly wouldn’t censure her.