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Shortly before the holidays, I experienced an extraordinary episode. I think it was beneficial for me. This happened at a get-together of several mates, who are incidentally dentists, but this isn't important. The assembled party were exclusively male, which is relevant.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The venue was a tavern experiencing a brisk business. A forgotten daytime was shared by the group. Fine food, good beverages and remarkably entertaining anecdotes about oral health. As expected, the time came for excursions to the gents. Those who departed, I partially registered, looked to be absent a considerable while. I didn't ponder why this might have been, but when it came to my turn, everything was revealed.

Rounding the corner, and what awaited me but a long queue for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the female facilities, but a substantial line for the men’s. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this line recognised.

A Sample of the Norm

Let me state unequivocally, I do not seek or anticipate empathy from any female reader here. I am obviously aware that, for females, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. On countless occasions have I observed women queuing in a line while men in the identical venue have to do no such thing?

Apart from the annoyance of having to queue to use a toilet, there’s a tinge of indignity about lingering there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to experience. It was truly enlightening to experience a dose of it myself, observing the other sex breeze through the entrance while I was obliged to line up dutifully with others with my companions, angling away at something we had in our trouser pockets and checking our handsets.

The Genre of Toilet Queue Chitchat

There’s a whole form of small talk here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have minimal experience. Women, I presume, have become adept to be rather good at it, exchanging polite remarks and an notable comment or two.

Regarding this I’ve polled some women of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that intra-queue dialogue is restricted to the odd eye roll and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A associate told me it’s exclusively at the sinks subsequently that discussion tends to start up.

Had I been a lady, I’d refrain from on both niceties or reticence. If I was compelled, repeatedly, to stand in a common queue merely for the chance to empty my bladder, I’d express my fury like nobody’s business at the sheer injustice of it. A handy benchmark for any modern community would be balanced access in wee queue durations. I’m looking for studies on this.

Comradely Interaction in the Queue

During my time in my line, I attempted to spark some brotherly banter flowing about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, gave a weary look and uttered something to the effect of: “So, this is an irksome variation, isn't it chaps?”

A fellow chuckled, a second seemed nonplussed, a other man looked sheepish. Another gave a dismissive wave as if this was a further manifestation of modern woes, political correctness etc. For the most part, stillness reigned. A man came out, fastening his trousers. The queue advanced a position. A couple more men joined the back of it. I let out a breath.

An Unspoken Exchange

A female glided out of the next-door facility, all fragrant and relaxed. It was all right for some. I beamed apologetically at her, attempting to convey acknowledgement of this topsy-turvy scenario. She remarked: “Don't turn to me for support, you blighter. Return when you’ve endured this another hundred times and only then I might give you the time of day.”

Actually, she never spoke that. She didn’t say nothing. But I know that’s what she was implying. And I really wouldn’t censure her.