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In the run-up to Christmas, I encountered an remarkable situation. I think it proved instructive. This took place at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who are, as it happens dental professionals, but this isn't pertinent. The attending crowd were all blokes, which proves to be relevant.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The venue was a pub/restaurant doing a roaring trade. A wasted session was shared by the group. Good food, nice drink and unexpectedly entertaining tales about teeth. Naturally, the point arrived for trips to the men's room. Those who ventured off, I half-noticed, appeared to be absent a considerable while. I didn't contemplate the reason this might have been, but when it was my go, everything was revealed.

I turned the corner, and what should I find but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the female facilities, but a substantial line for the men’s. What strange new world was this? This was not a reality any of us in this line were accustomed to.

An Experience of Everyday Life

For the avoidance of doubt, I am not asking for sympathy from any female reader here. I am obviously conscious that, for females, having to queue to use a restroom is the norm. On countless occasions have I witnessed women standing in a row 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 tinge of embarrassment about lingering there, awaiting something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was truly enlightening to have a sample of it myself, watching the women walk straight through the entrance while I was forced to wait patiently in queue with my fellow fellas, looking distractedly at something we had in our trouser pockets and checking our mobile devices.

The Genre of Restroom Line Chitchat

There’s a whole style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant familiarity. Females, I imagine, have become adept to be rather good at it, exchanging pleasantries and an interesting comment or two.

Regarding this I’ve polled some female friends of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that intra-queue dialogue is limited to the odd eye roll and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A workmate informed me it’s merely at the washbasins afterwards that conversation tends to break out.

Were I a woman, I’d not spend a moment on either niceties or silence. If I was forced, over and over, to stand in a public line only for the opportunity to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like nobody’s business at the pure unfairness of it. A useful benchmark for any modern society would be balanced access in urination waiting times. I’m seeking out studies on this.

Brotherly Chat in the Procession

Returning to my wait, I attempted to spark some friendly chat started about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and said something to the effect of: “Well, this is an disagreeable variation, isn't it lads?”

Someone smiled, another appeared confused, a third looked sheepish. A further person shook his head as if this was one more manifestation of broken Britain, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, silence ensued. Someone came out, zipping up. The queue advanced a spot. Another two men took a place at the end of it. I exhaled.

A Silent Moment

A female wafted out of the adjacent facility, all fresh and unhurried. It was just fine for some. I grinned apologetically at her, endeavouring to convey recognition of this topsy-turvy state of affairs. She said: “Don’t look to me for sympathy, you bastard. Reappear when you’ve endured this another hundred times and then I may give you the courtesy.”

Truthfully, she never spoke that. She didn’t say nothing. But I am convinced that’s what she was feeling. And I truly would not censure her.