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Just before Christmas, I encountered an extraordinary situation. I think it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a meeting of some old friends, who are incidentally dentists, but it's not important. The attending group were exclusively male, which is significant.

A Strange Situation

The location was a bar and eatery experiencing a excellent custom. A wasted afternoon was enjoyed by everyone. Fine food, fine drink and surprisingly humorous stories about oral health. Inevitably, the point came for trips to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I vaguely observed, looked to be gone a considerable while. I didn't contemplate the reason this could be, but when it came to me next, everything was revealed.

I turned the corner, and what awaited me but a sizeable procession for the gents' lavatory. An empty space for the women’s toilet, but a considerable queue for the men's. What bizarre turn was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this queue knew.

A Taste of Common Reality

For the avoidance of doubt, I neither court nor expect empathy from any female reader here. I am obviously aware that, for women, needing to line up to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I witnessed women standing in a row while men in the comparable place have to do no such thing?

Beyond the inconvenience of standing in line to use a facility, there’s a whiff of humiliation about standing there, anticipating something that men generally don’t have to experience. It was profoundly bracing to have a sample of it myself, watching the opposite gender glide through the door while I was obliged to wait patiently in queue with my fellow fellas, angling away at anything we had in our pockets and consulting our mobile devices.

The Art of Toilet Queue Chitchat

There’s a whole conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant experience. Ladies, I imagine, have developed skills to be rather good at it, sharing pleasantries and an notable insight or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some women of my circle. The prevailing view is that queue-based dialogue is limited to the occasional exasperated look and the utterance: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the male.” A associate told me it’s only at the sinks subsequently that discussion tends to start up.

Had I been a woman, I’d not spend a moment on either niceties or quiet. If I was forced, repeatedly, to wait in a common queue simply for the privilege to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like crazy at the sheer unfairness of it. A useful measure for any advanced community would be equal waiting times in wee waiting times. I’m researching studies on this.

Brotherly Banter in the Queue

During my time in my queue, I attempted to get some male camaraderie flowing about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, gave a weary look and remarked something to the effect of: “So, this is an unpleasant variation, isn't it boys?”

One person grinned, another appeared confused, a third seemed awkward. Another shook his head as if this was one more manifestation of a failing society, woke madness etc. For the most part, silence reigned. A man emerged, zipping up. The line advanced a position. Two more men joined the rear of it. I exhaled.

A Silent Exchange

A woman wafted out of the adjacent restroom, all clean and at ease. It was just fine for some. I smiled apologetically at her, trying to communicate recognition of this upside-down situation. She remarked: “Don’t look to me for solidarity, you blighter. Return when you’ve endured this a hundred more times and only then I could give you the time.”

In reality, she never spoke that. She said nothing. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I really would not censure her.