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Just before the holidays, I had an extraordinary episode. I believe it was beneficial for me. This took place at a meeting of some old friends, who are incidentally dental professionals, but that’s not relevant. The attending group were solely men, which is relevant.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The establishment was a pub/restaurant experiencing a excellent custom. A forgotten session was had by all. Fine cuisine, fine beverages and surprisingly amusing anecdotes about oral health. Naturally, the point arrived for trips to the gents. Those who departed, I partially registered, seemed to be absent a significant period. I didn’t dwell on the reason this might have been, but when it came to me next, all became clear.

Rounding the corner, and what should I find but a sizeable procession for the gentlemen’s toilet. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, but a substantial line for the men’s. What bizarre turn was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this queue were accustomed to.

An Experience of the Norm

For the avoidance of doubt, I neither court nor expect sympathy from any female reader here. I am acutely conscious that, for ladies, needing to line up to use a convenience is the norm. How many times have I witnessed women standing in a line while men in the comparable place have to do no such thing?

Beyond the hassle of needing to wait to use a toilet, there’s a tinge of indignity about waiting there, awaiting something that men typically don’t have to experience. It was decidedly bracing to get a taste of it myself, seeing the opposite gender walk straight through the entrance while I was forced to wait patiently in queue with my fellow fellas, angling away at anything we had in our trouser pockets and scrolling through our phones.

The Practice of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a whole form of small talk here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have minimal knowledge. Females, I presume, have developed skills to be fairly skilled at it, exchanging polite remarks and an interesting observation or two.

Regarding this I’ve asked some female friends of my knowledge. The prevailing view is that within-the-line communication is limited to the occasional weary glance and the comment: “Screw this, I’m going to use the male.” A associate informed me it’s only at the washbasins later that chat tends to break out.

Had I been a female, I’d waste no time on both niceties or reticence. If I was obliged, repeatedly, to stand in a common queue only for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the utter injustice of it. A valuable measure for any civilised culture would be gender parity in toilet waiting times. I’m looking for research on this.

Male Banter in the Line

Returning to my wait, I attempted to get some male camaraderie going about this new circumstance of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, rolled my eyes and uttered something to the effect of: “Ah, this is an disagreeable variation, doesn’t it chaps?”

One person grinned, another looked blank, a third individual appeared embarrassed. Yet another shook his head as if this was one more manifestation of broken Britain, political correctness etc. For the most part, stillness reigned. Someone exited, zipping up. The queue shuffled up a place. Two more men entered the back of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Interaction

A female wafted out of the neighbouring restroom, all clean and relaxed. It was perfectly okay for some. I grinned sheepishly at her, attempting to express acknowledgement of this upside-down scenario. She remarked: “Don’t look to me for support, you jerk. Return when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and only then I might give you the time of day.”

Actually, she didn’t say that. She uttered a word. But I know that’s what she was thinking. And I really wouldn’t fault her.