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Just before the holidays, I had an extraordinary episode. I feel it did me good. This occurred at a gathering of a group of longtime companions, who are, as it happens tooth doctors, but that’s not important. The present group were exclusively male, which is key.

A Novel Scenario

The venue was a pub/restaurant enjoying a excellent custom. A lost daytime was enjoyed by everyone. Nice food, nice beverages and unexpectedly amusing tales about oral health. As expected, the moment arrived for excursions to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I vaguely observed, appeared to be gone a significant period. I didn't contemplate the reason this was, but when it was my go, all became clear.

Upon turning the bend, and what did I discover but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. Not a single person waiting for the female facilities, but a great long one for the gents'. What strange new world was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this line were accustomed to.

A Sample of Everyday Life

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for empathy from any female reader here. I am obviously cognizant that, for females, being forced to wait to use a convenience is standard practice. On countless occasions have I seen women standing in a row while men in the identical venue have to do the opposite?

Beyond the annoyance of standing in line to use a facility, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about lingering there, waiting for something that men generally don’t have to experience. It was truly bracing to have a sample of it myself, seeing the other sex glide through the entrance while I was forced to wait patiently in queue with my companions, looking distractedly at anything we had in our trouser pockets and checking our mobile devices.

The Practice of Restroom Line Banter

There’s a whole style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have little knowledge. Women, I surmise, have developed skills to be quite proficient at it, sharing polite remarks and an notable insight or two.

Regarding this I’ve consulted some female friends of my circle. The consensus is that within-the-line dialogue is restricted to the odd weary glance and the utterance: “Screw this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague informed me it’s exclusively at the sinks afterwards that discussion tends to start up.

Had I been a lady, I’d not spend a moment on both niceties or silence. If I was compelled, repeatedly, to stand in a common queue merely for the privilege to relieve myself, I’d vent my spleen like nobody’s business at the sheer inequity of it. A useful measure for any modern culture would be balanced access in urination waiting times. I’m looking for data on this.

Brotherly Chat in the Queue

Returning to my wait, I attempted to get some friendly chat going about this novel circumstance of ours. I sighed a bit, showed exasperation and uttered something like: “Ah, this is an irksome difference, isn't it lads?”

One person chuckled, another seemed nonplussed, a third individual looked sheepish. Another shook his head as if this was yet another manifestation of modern woes, political correctness etc. Otherwise, stillness reigned. An individual came out, zipping up. The line moved forward a position. Two more men entered the end of it. I exhaled.

A Knowing Exchange

A female emerged out of the next-door toilet, all fragrant and unhurried. It was just fine for some. I smiled sheepishly at her, attempting to communicate acknowledgement of this reversed situation. She said: “Don't come to me for solidarity, you bastard. Return when you’ve endured this a hundred more times and at that point I may give you the time of day.”

In reality, she never spoke that. She said anything. But I am convinced that’s what she was implying. And I really would not censure her.