🔗 Share this article

Shortly before the festive season, I had an extraordinary episode. I believe it did me good. This took place at a gathering of some old friends, who happen to be dental professionals, but this isn't pertinent. The assembled group were all blokes, which proves to be key.

A Novel Predicament

The location was a bar and eatery doing a excellent custom. A forgotten afternoon was shared by the group. Good food, good drink and surprisingly humorous tales about dentistry. As expected, the moment dawned for visits to the male facilities. Those who departed, I half-noticed, looked to be absent a long time. I didn’t dwell on why this might have been, but when it became my go, everything was revealed.

I turned the corner, and what did I discover but a long queue for the gentlemen’s toilet. No queue at all for the female facilities, but a considerable queue for the men’s. What strange new world was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this line recognised.

A Sample of the Norm

To be perfectly clear, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any female reader here. I am fully cognizant that, for females, having to queue to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I witnessed women queuing in a queue while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

Beyond the annoyance of having to queue to use a facility, there’s a whiff of embarrassment about standing there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to experience. It was decidedly sobering to get a taste of it myself, observing the other sex walk straight through the entrance while I was forced to line up dutifully with others with my mates, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our trouser pockets and checking our handsets.

The Art of Toilet Queue Banter

There’s a complete form of small talk here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have little experience. Females, I surmise, have learned to be rather good at it, exchanging pleasantries and an notable insight or two.

Regarding this I’ve polled some women of my knowledge. The consensus is that within-the-line interaction is restricted to the rare eye roll and the phrase: “Forget this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague informed me it’s exclusively at the sinks later that conversation tends to begin.

Had I been a female, I’d not spend a moment on both niceties or reticence. If I was compelled, over and over, to stand in a shared procession merely for the privilege to relieve myself, I’d rant angrily like nobody’s business at the pure injustice of it. A valuable measure for any civilised society would be balanced access in wee queue durations. I’m seeking out research on this.

Male Chat in the Line

During my time in my wait, I attempted to spark some male camaraderie going about this new situation of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and remarked something like: “Ah, this is an disagreeable difference, right chaps?”

Someone chuckled, someone else looked blank, a third appeared embarrassed. Yet another shook his head as if this was yet another manifestation of a failing society, cultural decline etc. For the most part, quiet reigned. Someone emerged, zipping up. The line shuffled up a position. Two more men took a place at the back of it. I sighed.

A Silent Interaction

A lady emerged out of the next-door toilet, all clean and relaxed. It was all right for some. I grinned apologetically at her, attempting to communicate an understanding of this topsy-turvy scenario. Her response was: “Don't come to me for solidarity, you blighter. Reappear when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and then I might give you the time.”

Actually, she did not utter that. She uttered a word. But I know that’s what she was thinking. And I honestly could not blame her.