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Just before the festive season, I encountered an remarkable situation. I feel it was beneficial for me. This took place at a get-together of some old friends, who are incidentally dental professionals, but that’s not pertinent. The present party were exclusively male, which proves to be key.

An Unfamiliar Situation

The establishment was a pub/restaurant experiencing a brisk business. A forgotten session was shared by the group. Fine cuisine, fine drink and unexpectedly amusing anecdotes about dentistry. As expected, the point dawned for excursions to the male facilities. Those who departed, I vaguely observed, looked to be absent a significant period. I didn’t dwell on the reason this could be, but when it became my turn, the mystery was solved.

Rounding the corner, and what awaited me but a sizeable procession for the gentlemen’s toilet. Not a single person waiting for the women’s toilet, but a great long one for the men’s. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

A Sample of Common Reality

For the avoidance of doubt, I neither court nor expect pity from any female reader here. I am obviously cognizant that, for females, having to queue to use a public toilet is the norm. How many times have I seen women standing in a queue while men in the same establishment have to do the opposite?

Beyond the annoyance of needing to wait to use a toilet, there’s a hint of indignity about standing there, anticipating something that men typically don’t have to wait for. It was profoundly bracing to have a sample of it myself, observing the opposite gender breeze through the portal while I was forced to stand solemnly with others with my mates, fiddling at whatever we had in our pockets and consulting our phones.

The Genre of Restroom Line Banter

There’s a entire conversational genre here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have little knowledge. Ladies, I imagine, have learned to be quite proficient at it, engaging in polite remarks and an notable comment or two.

About this topic I’ve asked some female friends of my knowledge. The prevailing view is that within-the-line interaction is confined to the rare eye roll and the utterance: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A associate mentioned it’s merely at the washbasins subsequently that discussion tends to start up.

Had I been a lady, I’d not spend a moment on both pleasantries or quiet. If I was forced, over and over, to stand in a shared procession merely for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the pure inequity of it. A handy metric for any advanced community would be equal waiting times in wee lining-up periods. I’m researching research on this.

Brotherly Banter in the Line

During my time in my queue, I tried to initiate some friendly chat started about this novel situation of ours. I tutted a bit, gave a weary look and uttered something along the lines of: “Well, this is an disagreeable change, isn't it boys?”

One person grinned, someone else appeared confused, a third individual looked sheepish. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another symptom of broken Britain, woke madness etc. Otherwise, silence reigned. Someone emerged, zipping up. The group advanced a spot. Two more men took a place at the back of it. I exhaled.

An Unspoken Moment

A lady glided out of the neighbouring facility, all clean and relaxed. It was perfectly okay for some. I smiled bashfully at her, endeavouring to convey recognition of this reversed situation. She said: “Don’t look to me for sympathy, you jerk. Return when you’ve endured this on a regular basis and then I could give you the time.”

Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She uttered anything. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I truly would not fault her.