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Just before the festive season, I had an unusual situation. I believe it was beneficial for me. This took place at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who are, as it happens dental professionals, but this isn't important. The assembled group were solely men, which proves to be relevant.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The location was a pub/restaurant experiencing a roaring trade. A wasted daytime was shared by the group. Fine cuisine, nice drink and unexpectedly entertaining anecdotes about oral health. Naturally, the point arrived for excursions to the men's room. Those who departed, I half-noticed, looked to be absent a significant period. I didn't contemplate the reason this could be, but when it was me next, the mystery was solved.

Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. No queue at all for the women’s toilet, but a considerable queue for the men’s. What fresh hell was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this line recognised.

A Taste of Everyday Life

Let me state unequivocally, I do not seek or anticipate pity from any woman here. I am acutely conscious that, for women, needing to line up to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. On countless occasions have I seen women waiting in a line while men in the comparable place have to do the opposite?

In addition to the hassle of standing in line to use a toilet, there’s a tinge of humiliation about lingering there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to endure. It was profoundly enlightening to have a sample of it myself, watching the opposite gender walk straight through the portal while I was forced to wait patiently in line with my companions, angling away at anything we had in our jackets and checking our handsets.

The Genre of Toilet Queue Banter

There’s a entire conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have little familiarity. Females, I presume, have learned to be quite proficient at it, engaging in small talk and an interesting insight or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some female friends of my acquaintance. The general agreement is that within-the-line communication is confined to the rare exasperated look and the phrase: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A workmate informed me it’s exclusively at the hand-washing stations subsequently that conversation tends to begin.

Had I been a female, I’d waste no time on either pleasantries or reticence. If I was forced, time and again, to queue in a shared procession simply for the privilege to empty my bladder, I’d vent my spleen like crazy at the pure unfairness of it. A useful measure for any modern society would be equal waiting times in wee queue durations. I’m seeking out research on this.

Brotherly Chat in the Line

Back in my line, I tried to initiate some friendly chat going about this new situation of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, rolled my eyes and uttered something along the lines of: “So, this represents an unpleasant change, isn't it boys?”

Someone chuckled, a second looked blank, a other man appeared embarrassed. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was a further manifestation of a failing society, woke madness etc. Otherwise, silence reigned. An individual exited, fastening his trousers. The group advanced a spot. A couple more men joined the rear of it. I let out a breath.

A Silent Exchange

A woman wafted out of the neighbouring facility, all clean and relaxed. It was perfectly okay for some. I smiled sheepishly at her, endeavouring to convey recognition of this upside-down scenario. She remarked: “Don't come to me for sympathy, you jerk. Reappear when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and only then I may give you the courtesy.”

In reality, she didn’t say that. She uttered anything. But I know that’s what she was thinking. And I really could not blame her.