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Shortly before the festive season, I had an remarkable episode. I feel it was beneficial for me. This took place at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who are, as it happens tooth doctors, but this isn't important. The present crowd were exclusively male, which proves to be key.

A Strange Situation

The location was a pub/restaurant enjoying a brisk business. A wasted session was shared by the group. Fine cuisine, fine drink and surprisingly entertaining stories about dentistry. Naturally, the point came for visits to the male facilities. Those who went, I half-noticed, looked to be gone a long time. I didn’t dwell on the reason this was, but when it was my turn, everything was revealed.

I turned the corner, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the gentlemen’s toilet. No queue at all for the women’s toilet, but a substantial line for the men’s. What strange new world was this? This was not a reality any of us in this queue were accustomed to.

An Experience of the Norm

To be perfectly clear, I neither court nor expect sympathy from any female reader here. I am obviously aware that, for ladies, having to queue to use a public toilet is standard practice. How many times have I witnessed women queuing in a queue while men in the same establishment have to do the opposite?

In addition to the inconvenience of having to queue to use a convenience, there’s a hint of embarrassment about standing there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to wait for. It was truly enlightening to have a sample of it myself, seeing the other sex glide through the door while I was forced to line up dutifully in line with my fellow fellas, angling away at something we had in our trouser pockets and scrolling through our handsets.

The Genre of Toilet Queue Chitchat

There’s a complete style of dialogue here – lavatory line banter – of which men have little experience. Ladies, I presume, have become adept to be quite proficient at it, sharing small talk and an interesting comment or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some women of my acquaintance. The consensus is that queue-based communication is confined to the odd weary glance and the phrase: “Screw this, I’m going to use the male.” A associate informed me it’s only at the washbasins subsequently that discussion tends to start up.

Were I a female, I’d not spend a moment on either pleasantries or silence. If I was forced, repeatedly, to wait in a public line simply for the chance to use the toilet, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the pure unfairness of it. A useful measure for any modern society would be equal waiting times in wee lining-up periods. I’m researching data on this.

Male Banter in the Line

Back in my line, I endeavoured to initiate some brotherly banter flowing about this new state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, showed exasperation and uttered something along the lines of: “Well, this represents an irksome variation, isn't it boys?”

A fellow chuckled, another looked blank, a other man appeared embarrassed. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was a further manifestation of modern woes, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, stillness prevailed. An individual emerged, zipping up. The line moved forward a place. Two more men took a place at the back of it. I let out a breath.

An Unspoken Interaction

A lady wafted out of the neighbouring restroom, all fresh and relaxed. It was all right for some. I grinned bashfully at her, trying to communicate acknowledgement of this reversed scenario. She said: “Don’t look to me for sympathy, you bastard. Return when you’ve endured this on a regular basis and only then I could give you the time.”

Actually, she never spoke that. She didn’t say anything. But I believe that’s what she was feeling. And I honestly wouldn’t censure her.