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Just before the holidays, I experienced an unusual situation. I feel it proved instructive. This occurred at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who are, as it happens dental professionals, but it's not relevant. The attending crowd were exclusively male, which turns out to be significant.

A Strange Scenario

The location was a bar and eatery doing a roaring trade. A lost afternoon was enjoyed by everyone. Fine fare, good drink and remarkably humorous stories about teeth. Inevitably, the time dawned for trips to the gents. Those who went, I vaguely observed, seemed to be gone a significant period. I didn't contemplate why this could be, but when it was me next, the mystery was solved.

Upon turning the bend, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the gents' lavatory. 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 an unfamiliar scene any of us in this gathering recognised.

A Sample of Common Reality

Let me state unequivocally, I neither court nor expect pity from any female reader here. I am acutely conscious that, for females, having to queue to use a convenience is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I observed women standing in a queue while men in the identical venue have to do the opposite?

Apart from the annoyance of standing in line to use a toilet, there’s a whiff of indignity about waiting there, waiting for something that men generally don’t have to wait for. It was truly enlightening to have a sample of it myself, watching the opposite gender walk straight through the entrance while I was compelled to wait patiently in queue with my mates, fiddling at whatever we had in our pockets and scrolling through our phones.

The Genre of Lavatory Queue Banter

There’s a complete form of small talk here – lavatory line banter – of which men have little experience. Ladies, I presume, have developed skills to be fairly skilled at it, engaging in pleasantries and an notable insight or two.

On this I’ve polled some female friends of my knowledge. The consensus is that queue-based interaction is limited to the occasional exasperated look and the comment: “Screw this, I’m going to use the male.” A colleague mentioned it’s exclusively at the hand-washing stations subsequently that chat tends to break out.

If I was a female, I’d not spend a moment on both niceties or silence. If I was compelled, time and again, to wait in a public line merely for the privilege to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like crazy at the utter injustice of it. A useful benchmark for any civilised society would be gender parity in wee lining-up periods. I’m looking for research on this.

Comradely Banter in the Line

During my time in my queue, I endeavoured to get some friendly chat flowing about this novel state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, showed exasperation and remarked something like: “Well, this makes an irksome difference, right lads?”

Someone grinned, someone else seemed nonplussed, a third individual appeared embarrassed. Another rolled his eyes as if this was yet another example of modern woes, political correctness etc. Otherwise, stillness reigned. Someone emerged, zipping up. The group moved forward a position. Another two men took a place at the end of it. I exhaled.

An Unspoken Moment

A female glided out of the next-door restroom, all fresh and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I beamed bashfully at her, attempting to convey acknowledgement of this upside-down situation. Her response was: “Don't come to me for support, you jerk. Come back when you’ve done this on a regular basis and only then I could give you the courtesy.”

In reality, she did not utter that. She said nothing. But I am convinced that’s what she was thinking. And I truly wouldn’t censure her.