🔗 Share this article

In the run-up to Christmas, I experienced an extraordinary situation. I think it did me good. This happened at a get-together of several mates, who are incidentally dentists, but it's not pertinent. The assembled group were all blokes, which turns out to be significant.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The venue was a bar and eatery enjoying a brisk business. A lost afternoon was enjoyed by everyone. Nice fare, fine libations and unexpectedly amusing stories about teeth. As expected, the moment arrived for excursions to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I vaguely observed, looked to be absent a long time. I didn't contemplate the reason this was, but when it came to my turn, the mystery was solved.

Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. An empty space for the ladies' room, but a substantial line for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this gathering knew.

A Sample of Common Reality

For the avoidance of doubt, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any lady here. I am acutely conscious that, for ladies, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. On countless occasions have I observed women waiting in a row while men in the identical venue have to do nothing of the sort?

Apart from the hassle of standing in line to use a facility, there’s a hint of indignity about lingering there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was profoundly enlightening to get a taste of it myself, seeing the other sex glide through the entrance while I was obliged to line up dutifully in queue with my companions, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our trouser pockets and checking our phones.

The Genre of Restroom Line Chitchat

There’s a entire style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant experience. Females, I imagine, have learned to be quite proficient at it, engaging in pleasantries and an interesting observation or two.

About this topic I’ve asked some women of my knowledge. The prevailing view is that queue-based interaction is confined to the occasional eye roll and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the male.” A workmate informed me it’s merely at the washbasins afterwards that discussion tends to begin.

Had I been a woman, I’d waste no time on both niceties or reticence. If I was forced, over and over, to stand in a shared procession only for the privilege to relieve myself, I’d rant angrily like nobody’s business at the sheer inequity of it. A valuable benchmark for any advanced society would be gender parity in toilet waiting times. I’m researching studies on this.

Comradely Interaction in the Procession

Returning to my wait, I tried to spark some male camaraderie flowing about this novel state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, gave a weary look and remarked something like: “Ah, this makes an irksome difference, isn't it boys?”

A fellow chuckled, another appeared confused, a third seemed awkward. A further person rolled his eyes as if this was a further symptom of a failing society, woke madness etc. Aside from that, stillness prevailed. Someone emerged, adjusting his clothing. The line moved forward a place. Another two men joined the back of it. I sighed.

A Silent Moment

A female wafted out of the adjacent restroom, all fresh and at ease. It was all right for some. I grinned sheepishly at her, trying to communicate an understanding of this topsy-turvy state of affairs. She said: “Don’t look to me for sympathy, you blighter. Reappear when you’ve done this a hundred more times and at that point I may give you the time.”

Actually, she didn’t say that. She uttered nothing. But I am convinced that’s what she was implying. And I honestly could not fault her.