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Shortly before the festive season, I encountered an unusual incident. I think it did me good. This happened at a get-together of some old friends, who are, as it happens dental professionals, but that’s not important. The assembled crowd were solely men, which proves to be significant.

A Novel Predicament

The establishment was a bar and eatery experiencing a brisk business. A wasted afternoon was shared by the group. Fine food, good beverages and remarkably entertaining stories about oral health. Naturally, the time came for visits to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I vaguely observed, appeared to be away a long time. I didn't ponder why this was, but when it came to me next, all became clear.

Rounding the corner, and what should I find but a sizeable procession for the gentlemen’s toilet. An empty space for the women’s toilet, but a great long one for the men's. What strange new world was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering knew.

A Sample of Common Reality

Let me state unequivocally, I am not asking for empathy from any female reader here. I am fully aware that, for women, being forced to wait to use a restroom is the norm. On countless occasions have I observed women queuing in a line while men in the same establishment have to do no such thing?

Apart from the inconvenience of having to queue to use a toilet, there’s a hint of humiliation about standing there, anticipating something that men typically don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly sobering to experience a dose of it myself, observing the women breeze through the door while I was compelled to line up dutifully with others with my companions, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our jackets and checking our mobile devices.

The Practice of Lavatory Queue Chitchat

There’s a whole conversational genre here – lavatory line banter – of which men have little experience. Females, I presume, have become adept to be rather good at it, engaging in small talk and an engaging comment or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some lady acquaintances of my knowledge. The consensus is that within-the-line dialogue is restricted to the rare weary glance and the phrase: “Forget this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A associate mentioned it’s exclusively at the sinks afterwards that chat tends to break out.

Were I a female, I’d waste no time on both niceties or silence. If I was compelled, time and again, to queue in a common queue only for the opportunity to relieve myself, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the sheer unfairness of it. A valuable benchmark for any modern community would be gender parity in urination lining-up periods. I’m seeking out research on this.

Brotherly Banter in the Queue

Returning to my queue, I tried to initiate some male camaraderie flowing about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, showed exasperation and said something to the effect of: “Well, this makes an irksome change, right chaps?”

One person smiled, a second seemed nonplussed, a third seemed awkward. Another shook his head as if this was one more example of broken Britain, woke madness etc. For the most part, silence reigned. Someone exited, zipping up. The line advanced a position. A couple more men entered the back of it. I sighed.

A Knowing Interaction

A female wafted out of the neighbouring facility, all clean and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I beamed bashfully at her, endeavouring to convey an understanding of this upside-down scenario. She said: “Don't turn to me for support, you bastard. Reappear when you’ve done this on a regular basis and at that point I may give you the courtesy.”

Truthfully, she never spoke that. She didn’t say anything. But I believe that’s what she was feeling. And I really would not censure her.