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Shortly before Christmas, I had an extraordinary episode. I feel it proved instructive. This occurred at a meeting of a group of longtime companions, who happen to be tooth doctors, but it's not important. The attending crowd were all blokes, which proves to be key.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The establishment was a bar and eatery doing a brisk business. A wasted session was shared by the group. Good food, good beverages and surprisingly amusing stories about teeth. Naturally, the time came for visits to the male facilities. Those who departed, I vaguely observed, appeared to be absent a significant period. I didn’t dwell on the reason this could be, but when it was my go, all became clear.

I turned the corner, and what awaited me but a lengthy line for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the female facilities, but a substantial line for the men’s. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

An Experience of Everyday Life

Let me state unequivocally, I do not seek or anticipate empathy from any lady here. I am acutely conscious that, for females, needing to line up to use a convenience is the norm. Repeatedly have I seen women queuing in a line while men in the identical venue have to do the opposite?

In addition to the inconvenience of needing to wait to use a toilet, there’s a hint of humiliation about lingering 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 other sex glide through the door while I was forced to line up dutifully in line with my mates, angling away at anything we had in our jackets and scrolling through our handsets.

The Genre of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a whole conversational genre here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have scant experience. Females, I imagine, have developed skills to be quite proficient at it, engaging in small talk and an engaging comment or two.

About this topic I’ve asked some female friends of my knowledge. The general agreement is that intra-queue communication is limited to the occasional eye roll and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the male.” A workmate mentioned it’s exclusively at the sinks subsequently that discussion tends to start up.

If I was a female, I’d not spend a moment on both niceties or silence. If I was forced, time and again, to queue in a shared procession merely for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d rant angrily like nobody’s business at the sheer injustice of it. A handy benchmark for any advanced community would be equal waiting times in toilet waiting times. I’m researching data on this.

Male Banter in the Procession

Back in my queue, I attempted to spark some male camaraderie flowing about this new circumstance of ours. I tutted a bit, gave a weary look and remarked something to the effect of: “Well, this is an unpleasant change, isn't it boys?”

Someone smiled, another appeared confused, a third looked sheepish. Another gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another symptom of a failing society, cultural decline etc. Otherwise, stillness ensued. An individual came out, adjusting his clothing. The group moved forward a place. Another two men joined the back of it. I sighed.

A Silent Moment

A woman emerged out of the neighbouring toilet, all fresh and unhurried. It was perfectly okay for some. I beamed apologetically at her, trying to communicate acknowledgement of this reversed scenario. She said: “Don’t look to me for solidarity, you blighter. Come back when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and then I might give you the courtesy.”

Truthfully, she never spoke that. She didn’t say a word. But I am convinced that’s what she was thinking. And I honestly wouldn’t blame her.