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Just before Christmas, I had an remarkable incident. I believe it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a get-together of several mates, who are, as it happens dentists, but this isn't important. The assembled group were exclusively male, which proves to be significant.

An Unfamiliar Situation

The establishment was a bar and eatery enjoying a excellent custom. A wasted daytime was enjoyed by everyone. Good food, nice libations and remarkably amusing tales about teeth. Inevitably, the moment dawned for excursions to the men's room. Those who ventured off, I partially registered, looked to be away a considerable while. I didn't ponder the reason this was, but when it became me next, all became clear.

I turned the corner, and what awaited me but a long queue for the men's restroom. No queue at all for the women’s toilet, but a substantial line for the gents'. What strange new world was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this line recognised.

A Sample of Common Reality

Let me state unequivocally, I am not asking for empathy from any female reader here. I am fully conscious that, for females, being forced to wait to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. Repeatedly have I observed women queuing in a row while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the inconvenience of having to queue to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of humiliation about standing there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to endure. It was decidedly sobering to have a sample of it myself, watching the opposite gender breeze through the door while I was compelled to wait patiently in line with my companions, angling away at anything we had in our pockets and consulting our mobile devices.

The Genre of Restroom Line Conversation

There’s a entire style of dialogue here – lavatory line banter – of which men have little experience. Ladies, I presume, have become adept to be rather good at it, exchanging polite remarks and an engaging observation or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some lady acquaintances of my knowledge. The general agreement is that queue-based interaction is restricted to the odd weary glance and the comment: “Forget this, I’m going to use the male.” A colleague told me it’s only at the sinks later that conversation tends to break out.

Were I a female, I’d waste no time on both pleasantries or silence. If I was obliged, over and over, to queue in a public line merely for the chance to relieve myself, I’d rant angrily like crazy at the pure inequity of it. A useful metric for any advanced community would be equal waiting times in toilet lining-up periods. I’m seeking out data on this.

Male Chat in the Procession

Back in my wait, I tried to get some friendly chat started about this novel circumstance of ours. I sighed a bit, showed exasperation and remarked something like: “Ah, this is an disagreeable variation, doesn’t it lads?”

One person smiled, a second appeared confused, a other man appeared embarrassed. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was a further example of modern woes, woke madness etc. Aside from that, silence prevailed. A man emerged, adjusting his clothing. The line shuffled up a position. Another two men joined the rear of it. I exhaled.

An Unspoken Interaction

A female wafted out of the neighbouring facility, all fragrant and at ease. It was all right for some. I smiled apologetically at her, endeavouring to express an understanding of this topsy-turvy situation. She said: “Don't turn to me for sympathy, you blighter. Reappear when you’ve done this on a regular basis and at that point I may give you the time.”

Truthfully, she did not utter that. She uttered anything. But I am convinced that’s what she was thinking. And I truly would not fault her.