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In the run-up to the holidays, I experienced an unusual incident. I feel it proved instructive. This happened at a meeting of some old friends, who are incidentally dental professionals, but that’s not important. The attending party were all blokes, which proves to be relevant.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The establishment was a tavern doing a excellent custom. A lost session was shared by the group. Nice cuisine, fine drink and surprisingly amusing stories about oral health. Inevitably, the time arrived for visits to the male facilities. Those who went, I partially registered, seemed to be absent a considerable while. I didn’t dwell on the reason this was, but when it came to my go, the mystery was solved.

Upon turning the bend, and what should I find 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 bizarre turn was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this queue were accustomed to.

A Sample of Common Reality

Let me state unequivocally, I do not seek or anticipate empathy from any lady here. I am acutely cognizant that, for women, needing to line up to use a restroom is the norm. How many times have I witnessed women waiting in a line while men in the identical venue have to do the opposite?

In addition to the inconvenience of having to queue to use a facility, there’s a tinge of humiliation about lingering there, anticipating something that men generally don’t have to endure. It was truly sobering to get a taste of it myself, observing the other sex breeze through the door while I was compelled to wait patiently with others with my mates, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our jackets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Genre of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a complete style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant knowledge. Females, I presume, have learned to be fairly skilled at it, engaging in small talk and an interesting insight or two.

Regarding this I’ve polled some female friends of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that queue-based interaction is limited to the odd weary glance and the comment: “Forget this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A workmate mentioned it’s only at the sinks subsequently that chat tends to start up.

Were I a female, I’d not spend a moment on both niceties or silence. If I was compelled, repeatedly, to queue in a shared procession merely for the privilege to empty my bladder, I’d express my fury like nobody’s business at the sheer injustice of it. A valuable metric for any advanced culture would be gender parity in wee queue durations. I’m researching studies on this.

Male Chat in the Line

During my time in my wait, I tried to initiate some male camaraderie started about this new circumstance of ours. I tutted a bit, gave a weary look and uttered something to the effect of: “Well, this is an unpleasant difference, isn't it boys?”

A fellow smiled, someone else seemed nonplussed, a third looked sheepish. Another rolled his eyes as if this was yet another example of a failing society, woke madness etc. For the most part, stillness reigned. An individual came out, zipping up. The queue moved forward a spot. Another two men joined the back of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Exchange

A female wafted out of the next-door facility, all clean and relaxed. It was all right for some. I beamed apologetically at her, attempting to express acknowledgement of this reversed scenario. Her response was: “Don’t look to me for support, you bastard. Come back when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and at that point I may give you the courtesy.”

In reality, she did not utter that. She uttered a word. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I truly would not fault her.