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In the run-up to the holidays, I had an extraordinary situation. I feel it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a gathering of a group of longtime companions, who are incidentally dentists, but this isn't relevant. The present crowd were all blokes, which proves to be key.

A Novel Predicament

The establishment was a tavern doing a brisk business. A lost session was enjoyed by everyone. Fine food, good beverages and unexpectedly amusing tales about teeth. Naturally, the point arrived for trips to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I vaguely observed, seemed to be absent a considerable while. I didn't ponder why this might have been, but when it became me next, all became clear.

Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a long queue for the men's restroom. No queue at all for the female facilities, but a considerable queue for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this queue knew.

An Experience of Everyday Life

Let me state unequivocally, I am not asking for sympathy from any female reader here. I am acutely cognizant that, for women, being forced to wait to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. On countless occasions have I witnessed women standing in a line while men in the comparable place have to do the opposite?

In addition to the inconvenience of having to queue to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about standing there, waiting for something that men typically don’t have to experience. It was truly enlightening to get a taste of it myself, seeing the opposite gender walk straight through the portal while I was compelled to wait patiently in queue with my companions, looking distractedly at anything we had in our jackets and consulting our mobile devices.

The Genre of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a complete form of small talk here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have little familiarity. Females, I surmise, have learned to be rather good at it, exchanging polite remarks and an notable observation or two.

Regarding this I’ve asked some lady acquaintances of my knowledge. The prevailing view is that queue-based communication is confined to the occasional exasperated look and the comment: “Forget this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague informed me it’s exclusively at the hand-washing stations afterwards that discussion tends to begin.

Had I been a lady, I’d not spend a moment on either small talk or silence. If I was forced, over and over, to stand in a public line merely for the chance to relieve myself, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the utter injustice of it. A valuable benchmark for any modern culture would be balanced access in toilet waiting times. I’m seeking out research on this.

Male Banter in the Queue

Returning to my line, I attempted to get some friendly chat flowing about this new situation of ours. I tutted a bit, showed exasperation and said something along the lines of: “So, this makes an unpleasant variation, doesn’t it lads?”

Someone chuckled, another appeared confused, a third appeared embarrassed. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another example of a failing society, woke madness etc. Aside from that, stillness ensued. An individual emerged, adjusting his clothing. The queue advanced a place. A couple more men joined the end of it. I let out a breath.

A Knowing Moment

A lady emerged out of the adjacent restroom, all fresh and unhurried. It was all right for some. I smiled sheepishly at her, endeavouring to convey an understanding of this upside-down state of affairs. She remarked: “Don't come to me for solidarity, you jerk. Return when you’ve endured this another hundred times and then I may give you the courtesy.”

Actually, she never spoke that. She uttered anything. But I believe that’s what she was thinking. And I honestly would not censure her.