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In the run-up to the festive season, I encountered an unusual incident. I think it proved instructive. This happened at a meeting of several mates, who are incidentally dental professionals, but it's not relevant. The present crowd were exclusively male, which proves to be relevant.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The establishment was a bar and eatery experiencing a brisk business. A lost daytime was shared by the group. Good cuisine, fine drink and remarkably entertaining tales about oral health. Naturally, the moment arrived for trips to the male facilities. Those who departed, I vaguely observed, looked to be absent a considerable while. I didn't contemplate the reason this was, but when it came to my go, all became clear.

I turned the corner, and what should I find but a long queue for the gentlemen’s toilet. No queue at all for the female facilities, but a great long one for the men’s. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this line recognised.

A Sample of the Norm

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for sympathy from any lady here. I am obviously aware that, for females, needing to line up to use a public toilet is standard practice. How many times have I seen women waiting in a queue while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the hassle of having to queue to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of humiliation about lingering 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 opposite gender walk straight through the entrance while I was compelled to stand solemnly with others with my mates, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our jackets and checking our mobile devices.

The Practice of Toilet Queue Banter

There’s a entire form of small talk here – lavatory line banter – of which men have scant familiarity. Ladies, I presume, have become adept to be rather good at it, engaging in polite remarks and an engaging observation or two.

On this I’ve polled some lady acquaintances of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that within-the-line interaction is limited to the rare weary glance and the comment: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague informed me it’s merely at the hand-washing stations later that chat tends to break out.

If I was a lady, I’d not spend a moment on both small talk or silence. If I was obliged, time and again, to queue in a common queue only for the opportunity to empty my bladder, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the pure unfairness of it. A useful benchmark for any civilised society would be balanced access in toilet queue durations. I’m looking for research on this.

Comradely Chat in the Queue

Returning to my wait, I tried to get some male camaraderie going about this new state of affairs of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, rolled my eyes and remarked something to the effect of: “Well, this is an irksome change, isn't it boys?”

A fellow smiled, a second seemed nonplussed, a other man seemed awkward. Another gave a dismissive wave as if this was a further example of a failing society, cultural decline etc. Otherwise, quiet ensued. A man exited, zipping up. The group advanced a spot. Another two men joined the rear of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Exchange

A female glided out of the neighbouring restroom, all fresh and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I grinned sheepishly at her, endeavouring to express an understanding of this upside-down state of affairs. Her response was: “Don't come to me for support, you blighter. Return when you’ve endured this a hundred more times and only then I could give you the time.”

Actually, she never spoke that. She uttered nothing. But I am convinced that’s what she was implying. And I honestly could not censure her.