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Shortly before Christmas, I encountered an unusual situation. I think it proved instructive. This occurred at a meeting of some old friends, who are incidentally dental professionals, but this isn't important. The present crowd were all blokes, which is significant.

A Strange Situation

The venue was a tavern enjoying a brisk business. A lost session was shared by the group. Good fare, nice libations and remarkably amusing tales about teeth. Naturally, the point came for visits to the men's room. Those who ventured off, I half-noticed, seemed to be away a considerable while. I didn't contemplate the reason this might have been, but when it came to me next, all became clear.

I turned the corner, and what awaited me but a long queue for the gentlemen’s toilet. An empty space for the women’s toilet, but a considerable queue for the men’s. What strange new world was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this line recognised.

An Experience of Common Reality

Let me state unequivocally, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any woman here. I am obviously aware that, for females, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I seen women waiting in a row while men in the comparable place have to do the opposite?

Apart from the inconvenience of needing to wait to use a facility, there’s a hint of indignity about waiting there, waiting for something that men generally don’t have to experience. It was profoundly enlightening to experience a dose of it myself, watching the other sex breeze through the entrance while I was compelled to stand solemnly in queue with my mates, looking distractedly at anything we had in our pockets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Practice of Restroom Line Banter

There’s a whole form of small talk here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have little familiarity. Women, I imagine, have learned to be fairly skilled at it, sharing pleasantries and an interesting insight or two.

On this I’ve asked some women of my acquaintance. The general agreement is that within-the-line dialogue is limited to the occasional exasperated look and the utterance: “Screw this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague mentioned it’s merely at the hand-washing stations later that discussion tends to break out.

If I was a woman, I’d waste no time on both niceties or silence. If I was obliged, repeatedly, to wait in a shared procession only for the privilege to relieve myself, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the pure unfairness of it. A useful benchmark for any civilised community would be balanced access in urination waiting times. I’m looking for research on this.

Comradely Chat in the Line

Back in my queue, I attempted to initiate some male camaraderie flowing about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, showed exasperation and uttered something like: “Well, this is an disagreeable change, right chaps?”

Someone grinned, a second appeared confused, a other man looked sheepish. A further person rolled his eyes as if this was one more symptom of modern woes, woke madness etc. For the most part, silence prevailed. An individual came out, zipping up. The line advanced a place. Two more men entered the back of it. I exhaled.

A Silent Interaction

A female emerged out of the neighbouring toilet, all fragrant and relaxed. It was perfectly okay for some. I smiled apologetically at her, attempting to convey acknowledgement of this topsy-turvy situation. Her response was: “Don't turn to me for solidarity, you bastard. Come back when you’ve endured this a hundred more times and at that point I may give you the courtesy.”

In reality, she didn’t say that. She uttered anything. But I know that’s what she was implying. And I truly would not fault her.