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Just before Christmas, I experienced an unusual incident. I think it was beneficial for me. This happened at a gathering of several mates, who happen to be dental professionals, but that’s not pertinent. The attending crowd were all blokes, which turns out to be significant.

A Novel Situation

The location was a pub/restaurant enjoying a roaring trade. A wasted afternoon was had by all. Good food, nice libations and remarkably amusing stories about dentistry. Inevitably, the moment came for visits to the men's room. Those who ventured off, I vaguely observed, seemed to be away a considerable while. I didn’t dwell on why this was, but when it came to my turn, everything was revealed.

Upon turning the bend, and what did I discover but a long queue for the men's restroom. An empty space for the women’s toilet, but a substantial line for the men's. What fresh hell was this? This was not a reality any of us in this line were accustomed to.

A Sample of Everyday Life

To be perfectly clear, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any woman here. I am obviously cognizant that, for women, having to queue to use a convenience is standard practice. On countless occasions have I observed women waiting in a row while men in the identical venue have to do no such thing?

In addition to the inconvenience of having to queue to use a toilet, there’s a hint of indignity about lingering there, anticipating something that men typically don’t have to endure. It was decidedly sobering to get a taste of it myself, watching the opposite gender walk straight through the entrance while I was compelled to stand solemnly in queue with my fellow fellas, fiddling at something we had in our pockets and checking our phones.

The Art of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a complete conversational genre here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have scant knowledge. Females, I presume, have developed skills to be fairly skilled at it, engaging in small talk and an notable insight or two.

About this topic I’ve asked some lady acquaintances of my knowledge. The prevailing view is that within-the-line communication is limited to the occasional weary glance and the comment: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague mentioned it’s only at the hand-washing stations afterwards that conversation tends to begin.

Had I been a woman, I’d not spend a moment on either small talk or silence. If I was obliged, time and again, to wait in a common queue only for the privilege to relieve myself, I’d express my fury like crazy at the sheer injustice of it. A useful metric for any civilised culture would be balanced access in toilet lining-up periods. I’m looking for research on this.

Male Interaction in the Queue

During my time in my line, I tried to initiate some friendly chat started about this novel circumstance of ours. I sighed a bit, showed exasperation and remarked something along the lines of: “So, this makes an unpleasant change, doesn’t it lads?”

A fellow smiled, someone else appeared confused, a third individual looked sheepish. Another rolled his eyes as if this was one more manifestation of a failing society, woke madness etc. For the most part, silence reigned. An individual exited, fastening his trousers. The line moved forward a place. Another two men took a place at the end of it. I sighed.

A Silent Moment

A female glided out of the adjacent restroom, all clean and at ease. It was all right for some. I smiled apologetically at her, attempting to communicate an understanding of this upside-down scenario. She said: “Don't come to me for solidarity, you blighter. Come back when you’ve done this a hundred more times and at that point I could give you the courtesy.”

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