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In the run-up to Christmas, I experienced an remarkable situation. I feel it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who are, as it happens tooth doctors, but that’s not pertinent. The present party were exclusively male, which is relevant.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The location was a bar and eatery enjoying a roaring trade. A forgotten daytime was enjoyed by everyone. Nice fare, fine libations and remarkably entertaining anecdotes about oral health. As expected, the point dawned for visits to the gents. Those who went, I vaguely observed, looked to be gone a long time. I didn’t dwell on the reason this might have been, but when it came to my turn, everything was revealed.

Upon turning the bend, and what should I find but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. An empty space for the ladies' room, but a great long one for the men’s. What bizarre turn was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this line recognised.

A Sample of the Norm

To be perfectly clear, I neither court nor expect empathy from any lady here. I am acutely cognizant that, for ladies, being forced to wait to use a restroom is standard practice. Repeatedly have I witnessed women queuing in a row while men in the comparable place have to do the opposite?

In addition to the inconvenience of needing to wait to use a convenience, there’s a hint of humiliation about standing there, waiting for something that men typically don’t have to wait for. It was truly bracing to have a sample of it myself, seeing the opposite gender glide through the entrance while I was compelled to stand solemnly with others with my fellow fellas, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our pockets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Genre of Toilet Queue Banter

There’s a entire conversational genre here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have scant knowledge. Women, I presume, have developed skills to be quite proficient at it, engaging in polite remarks and an notable observation or two.

About this topic I’ve polled some female friends of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that within-the-line communication is limited to the rare exasperated look and the comment: “Forget this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague mentioned it’s merely at the washbasins later that conversation tends to begin.

If I was a female, I’d waste no time on both small talk or reticence. If I was compelled, time and again, to stand in a common queue only for the privilege to relieve myself, I’d express my fury like crazy at the utter injustice of it. A handy measure for any modern community would be equal waiting times in toilet queue durations. I’m looking for studies on this.

Brotherly Banter in the Queue

During my time in my line, I tried to get some friendly chat going about this novel circumstance of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and uttered something along the lines of: “Well, this is an unpleasant difference, doesn’t it lads?”

One person grinned, another appeared confused, a third individual appeared embarrassed. A further person rolled his eyes as if this was a further manifestation of broken Britain, woke madness etc. Otherwise, stillness ensued. Someone exited, adjusting his clothing. The group moved forward a position. Two more men took a place at the end of it. I sighed.

A Silent Moment

A lady emerged out of the neighbouring facility, all clean and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I beamed bashfully at her, trying to express recognition of this upside-down scenario. Her response was: “Don’t look to me for solidarity, you jerk. Come back when you’ve endured this another hundred times and at that point I might give you the time of day.”

In reality, she did not utter that. She uttered nothing. But I believe that’s what she was thinking. And I really could not censure her.