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In the run-up to Christmas, I encountered an unusual episode. I think it did me good. This happened at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who happen to be dental professionals, but that’s not relevant. The attending crowd were solely men, which proves to be significant.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The establishment was a bar and eatery doing a roaring trade. A lost daytime was enjoyed by everyone. Fine cuisine, good beverages and surprisingly humorous anecdotes about teeth. As expected, the time dawned for visits to the gents. Those who ventured off, I partially registered, looked to be gone a significant period. I didn't contemplate the reason this was, but when it came to my turn, everything was revealed.

Upon turning the bend, and what should I find but a lengthy line for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the women’s toilet, 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 Everyday Life

To be perfectly clear, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any lady here. I am obviously conscious that, for women, having to queue to use a convenience is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I seen women queuing in a line while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

Beyond the inconvenience of having to queue to use a facility, there’s a tinge of humiliation about standing there, awaiting something that men typically don’t have to endure. It was truly sobering to have a sample of it myself, seeing the opposite gender walk straight through the entrance while I was obliged to line up dutifully in queue with my mates, fiddling at something we had in our pockets and checking our mobile devices.

The Practice of Toilet Queue Chitchat

There’s a whole conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have minimal experience. Ladies, I presume, have developed skills to be quite proficient at it, exchanging polite remarks and an notable insight or two.

Regarding this I’ve asked some women of my circle. The prevailing view is that within-the-line dialogue is restricted to the occasional weary glance and the comment: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A workmate mentioned it’s only at the sinks later that conversation tends to break out.

If I was a female, I’d waste no time on either pleasantries or quiet. If I was forced, repeatedly, to stand in a public line merely for the privilege to use the toilet, I’d vent my spleen like there was no tomorrow at the utter injustice of it. A valuable measure for any civilised community would be balanced access in toilet lining-up periods. I’m looking for studies on this.

Brotherly Banter in the Queue

Back in my wait, I tried to initiate some brotherly banter flowing about this unprecedented circumstance of ours. I sighed a bit, showed exasperation and said something along the lines of: “So, this is an irksome variation, isn't it boys?”

A fellow chuckled, another appeared confused, a third individual appeared embarrassed. A further person shook his head as if this was one more symptom of broken Britain, political correctness etc. For the most part, stillness reigned. An individual emerged, zipping up. The queue moved forward a spot. Another two men joined the end of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Moment

A woman emerged out of the next-door facility, all fresh and at ease. It was all right for some. I beamed bashfully at her, attempting to express recognition of this upside-down state of affairs. She said: “Don't come to me for support, you blighter. Reappear when you’ve endured this another hundred times and at that point I could give you the time.”

In reality, she did not utter that. She said anything. But I am convinced that’s what she was thinking. And I honestly would not blame her.