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In the run-up to Christmas, I experienced an remarkable episode. I feel it was beneficial for me. This took place at a meeting of some old friends, who are incidentally dentists, but this isn't relevant. The present party were solely men, which turns out to be relevant.

A Strange Situation

The venue was a pub/restaurant experiencing a brisk business. A lost daytime was enjoyed by everyone. Good food, nice drink and unexpectedly humorous anecdotes about teeth. Inevitably, the moment came for visits to the men's room. Those who departed, I partially registered, appeared to be absent a considerable while. I didn’t dwell on why this might have been, but when it came to my go, the mystery was solved.

I turned the corner, and what should I find but a sizeable procession for the gentlemen’s toilet. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, but a substantial line for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

An Experience of the Norm

Let me state unequivocally, I do not seek or anticipate pity from any woman here. I am fully conscious that, for females, having to queue to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. On countless occasions have I observed women standing in a line while men in the identical venue have to do no such thing?

Beyond the inconvenience of standing in line to use a toilet, there’s a whiff of embarrassment about waiting there, waiting for something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly bracing to get a taste of it myself, observing the other sex glide through the door while I was obliged to stand solemnly with others with my mates, angling away at anything we had in our jackets and checking our handsets.

The Art of Lavatory Queue Chitchat

There’s a complete style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant knowledge. Women, I surmise, have developed skills to be quite proficient at it, sharing pleasantries and an notable comment or two.

On this I’ve polled some female friends of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that queue-based interaction is limited to the rare exasperated look and the utterance: “Screw this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague informed me it’s exclusively at the hand-washing stations subsequently that chat tends to start up.

Were I a lady, I’d not spend a moment on either small talk or silence. If I was obliged, repeatedly, to stand in a public line merely for the opportunity to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like nobody’s business at the utter unfairness of it. A valuable metric for any advanced community would be equal waiting times in toilet queue durations. I’m looking for studies on this.

Male Interaction in the Procession

During my time in my wait, I tried to initiate some male camaraderie going about this novel situation of ours. I tutted a bit, gave a weary look and remarked something along the lines of: “Well, this is an disagreeable change, isn't it lads?”

A fellow smiled, another appeared confused, a other man seemed awkward. Another rolled his eyes as if this was yet another symptom of a failing society, political correctness etc. Otherwise, stillness reigned. Someone exited, adjusting his clothing. The group moved forward a position. Another two men entered the end of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Moment

A female glided out of the adjacent toilet, all fragrant and relaxed. It was all right for some. I beamed sheepishly at her, endeavouring to communicate an understanding of this upside-down scenario. She remarked: “Don't turn to me for support, you jerk. Return when you’ve endured this another hundred times and only then I might give you the courtesy.”

Truthfully, she never spoke that. She didn’t say a word. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I truly could not censure her.