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In the run-up to the festive season, I encountered an extraordinary incident. I believe it was beneficial for me. This took place at a get-together of several mates, who are incidentally dental professionals, but it's not relevant. The attending group were exclusively male, which proves to be key.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The location was a bar and eatery enjoying a brisk business. A lost afternoon was had by all. Good fare, fine beverages and remarkably humorous stories about dentistry. Naturally, the point dawned for visits to the men's room. Those who ventured off, I vaguely observed, appeared to be absent a long time. I didn't contemplate why this might have been, but when it became me next, all became clear.

Upon turning the bend, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the gentlemen’s toilet. No queue at all for the women’s toilet, but a considerable queue for the men's. What fresh hell was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this line were accustomed to.

A Sample of the Norm

To be perfectly clear, I neither court nor expect sympathy from any lady here. I am fully aware that, for women, being forced to wait to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. Repeatedly have I seen women standing in a row while men in the same establishment have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the inconvenience of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about waiting there, waiting for something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly sobering to have a sample of it myself, seeing the other sex breeze through the portal while I was obliged to stand solemnly with others with my fellow fellas, looking distractedly at something we had in our jackets and consulting our handsets.

The Practice of Lavatory Queue Conversation

There’s a entire conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant experience. Women, I presume, have developed skills to be fairly skilled at it, exchanging pleasantries and an notable observation or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some women of my knowledge. The prevailing view is that within-the-line dialogue is confined to the odd weary glance and the phrase: “Screw this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague mentioned it’s only at the sinks later that chat tends to begin.

Had I been a lady, I’d refrain from on both niceties or quiet. If I was obliged, repeatedly, to queue in a shared procession only for the chance to use the toilet, I’d vent my spleen like crazy at the utter injustice of it. A useful benchmark for any advanced culture would be balanced access in wee queue durations. I’m seeking out data on this.

Comradely Interaction in the Line

Back in my queue, I tried to initiate some male camaraderie started about this new circumstance of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and said something along the lines of: “Well, this makes an irksome variation, isn't it chaps?”

One person chuckled, another looked blank, a other man seemed awkward. Yet another rolled his eyes as if this was a further symptom of a failing society, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, stillness reigned. An individual came out, fastening his trousers. The group advanced a place. Another two men took a place at the back of it. I exhaled.

An Unspoken Interaction

A woman emerged out of the next-door toilet, all fresh and unhurried. It was all right for some. I beamed bashfully at her, attempting to convey an understanding of this upside-down state of affairs. She said: “Don't turn to me for sympathy, you bastard. Return when you’ve endured this a hundred more times and at that point I may give you the time.”

Truthfully, she never spoke that. She said anything. But I am convinced that’s what she was implying. And I really would not censure her.