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In the run-up to the holidays, I experienced an unusual situation. I think it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who happen to be dental professionals, but that’s not important. The attending crowd were solely men, which proves to be significant.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The establishment was a pub/restaurant experiencing a brisk business. A forgotten session was enjoyed by everyone. Good food, nice beverages and surprisingly humorous tales about oral health. As expected, the point arrived for visits to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I half-noticed, seemed to be gone a significant period. I didn't ponder the reason this could be, but when it became my go, the mystery was solved.

Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. An empty space for the ladies' room, but a substantial line for the gents'. What fresh hell was this? This was not a reality any of us in this line knew.

An Experience of Common Reality

Let me state unequivocally, I neither court nor expect sympathy from any female reader here. I am acutely conscious that, for ladies, having to queue to use a restroom is the norm. On countless occasions have I observed women standing in a queue while men in the identical venue have to do the opposite?

Apart from the annoyance of needing to wait to use a facility, there’s a hint of indignity about waiting there, awaiting something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly bracing to have a sample of it myself, watching the opposite gender walk straight through the portal while I was obliged to line up dutifully in queue with my companions, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our trouser pockets and consulting our mobile devices.

The Art of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a complete form of small talk here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have minimal knowledge. Females, I presume, have developed skills to be fairly skilled at it, sharing polite remarks and an notable insight or two.

Regarding this I’ve consulted some lady acquaintances of my circle. The general agreement is that queue-based interaction is restricted to the odd weary glance and the phrase: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague told me it’s exclusively at the sinks afterwards that conversation tends to start up.

Had I been a female, I’d refrain from on both niceties or silence. If I was obliged, repeatedly, to stand in a public line merely for the chance to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like crazy at the pure unfairness of it. A handy measure for any civilised community would be gender parity in wee lining-up periods. I’m looking for data on this.

Brotherly Chat in the Procession

Returning to my queue, I endeavoured to spark some friendly chat going about this new state of affairs of ours. I sighed a bit, gave a weary look and remarked something like: “Ah, this makes an irksome difference, right boys?”

One person chuckled, another appeared confused, a other man looked sheepish. Yet another rolled his eyes as if this was one more example of broken Britain, political correctness etc. For the most part, silence prevailed. Someone emerged, fastening his trousers. The queue moved forward a place. Two more men took a place at the rear of it. I let out a breath.

An Unspoken Exchange

A woman emerged out of the adjacent restroom, all fresh and unhurried. It was just fine for some. I beamed apologetically at her, attempting to express acknowledgement of this upside-down state of affairs. She said: “Don't turn to me for support, you jerk. Come back when you’ve done this on a regular basis and only then I might give you the courtesy.”

Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She said nothing. But I believe that’s what she was thinking. And I honestly could not censure her.