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Shortly before the festive season, I encountered an extraordinary situation. I feel it proved instructive. This took place at a gathering of several mates, who happen to be dentists, but it's not important. The assembled party were exclusively male, which proves to be relevant.

A Novel Situation

The location was a tavern doing a roaring trade. A lost afternoon was enjoyed by everyone. Nice cuisine, nice libations and unexpectedly amusing anecdotes about dentistry. As expected, the point came for visits to the gents. Those who departed, I partially registered, appeared to be gone a considerable while. I didn’t dwell on the reason this might have been, but when it became me next, everything was revealed.

Rounding the corner, and what awaited me but a lengthy line for the gents' lavatory. No queue at all for the female facilities, but a considerable queue for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this queue knew.

A Sample of the Norm

Let me state unequivocally, I neither court nor expect pity from any female reader here. I am acutely cognizant that, for females, being forced to wait to use a convenience is the norm. How many times have I witnessed women waiting in a queue while men in the same establishment have to do nothing of the sort?

Apart from the hassle of having to queue to use a facility, there’s a whiff of humiliation about waiting there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was profoundly bracing to get a taste of it myself, watching the opposite gender glide through the door while I was compelled to wait patiently in queue with my companions, looking distractedly at something we had in our jackets and scrolling through our handsets.

The Practice of Restroom Line Chitchat

There’s a complete form of small talk here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant knowledge. Women, I presume, have become adept to be quite proficient at it, exchanging polite remarks and an interesting insight or two.

On this I’ve asked some female friends of my acquaintance. The general agreement is that within-the-line dialogue is restricted to the occasional exasperated look and the comment: “Forget this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague mentioned it’s only at the hand-washing stations afterwards that chat tends to start up.

Had I been a woman, I’d not spend a moment on either small talk or reticence. If I was compelled, time and again, to wait in a common queue simply for the chance to use the toilet, I’d rant angrily like nobody’s business at the sheer unfairness of it. A handy measure for any modern culture would be gender parity in wee waiting times. I’m seeking out studies on this.

Male Interaction in the Line

During my time in my queue, I endeavoured to initiate some friendly chat flowing about this unprecedented circumstance of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and uttered something like: “Ah, this makes an unpleasant difference, isn't it chaps?”

Someone grinned, someone else seemed nonplussed, a other man appeared embarrassed. Another rolled his eyes as if this was one more symptom of a failing society, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, quiet prevailed. Someone came out, adjusting his clothing. The group moved forward a position. A couple more men joined the rear of it. I exhaled.

A Silent Exchange

A lady glided out of the neighbouring facility, all clean and unhurried. It was all right for some. I grinned bashfully at her, attempting to communicate acknowledgement of this reversed state of affairs. Her response was: “Don't come to me for support, you blighter. Reappear when you’ve endured this a hundred more times and at that point I could give you the courtesy.”

In reality, she didn’t say that. She uttered a word. But I am convinced that’s what she was thinking. And I really would not fault her.