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In the run-up to the holidays, I encountered an unusual situation. I think it proved instructive. This took place at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who happen to be dentists, but this isn't relevant. The attending crowd were solely men, which proves to be significant.

An Unfamiliar Situation

The venue was a pub/restaurant doing a excellent custom. A wasted daytime was shared by the group. Good food, nice beverages and unexpectedly amusing tales about dentistry. As expected, the moment arrived for visits to the male facilities. Those who departed, I partially registered, looked to be away a long time. I didn't contemplate the reason this might have been, but when it became my turn, all became clear.

Upon turning the bend, and what should I find but a long queue for the gentlemen’s toilet. An empty space for the ladies' room, but a considerable queue for the men's. What strange new world was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this gathering knew.

A Sample of Common Reality

For the avoidance of doubt, I do not seek or anticipate pity from any female reader here. I am obviously conscious that, for women, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is standard practice. How many times have I observed women waiting in a row while men in the same establishment have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the hassle of having to queue to use a toilet, there’s a tinge of indignity about lingering there, anticipating something that men generally don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly enlightening to have a sample of it myself, observing the women walk straight through the door while I was compelled to line up dutifully with others with my companions, angling away at whatever we had in our trouser pockets and checking our phones.

The Art of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a complete style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant knowledge. Women, I presume, have become adept to be fairly skilled at it, sharing small talk and an notable comment or two.

Regarding this I’ve consulted some lady acquaintances of my knowledge. The prevailing view is that intra-queue interaction is restricted to the rare eye roll and the phrase: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague informed me it’s exclusively at the sinks subsequently that discussion tends to start up.

If I was a lady, I’d waste no time on either pleasantries or quiet. If I was forced, time and again, to wait in a public line only for the chance to relieve myself, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the pure inequity of it. A handy benchmark for any modern community would be equal waiting times in urination queue durations. I’m researching data on this.

Comradely Chat in the Line

Back in my queue, I endeavoured to spark some brotherly banter going about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, gave a weary look and uttered something like: “Well, this is an unpleasant difference, right lads?”

Someone grinned, a second looked blank, a third appeared embarrassed. A further person shook his head as if this was yet another symptom of broken Britain, woke madness etc. For the most part, silence ensued. An individual came out, fastening his trousers. The group moved forward a place. Two more men joined the back of it. I exhaled.

A Silent Interaction

A female wafted out of the neighbouring toilet, all fresh and at ease. It was all right for some. I grinned apologetically at her, trying to communicate an understanding of this topsy-turvy situation. Her response was: “Don't turn to me for support, you blighter. Reappear when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and only then I may give you the courtesy.”

In reality, she never spoke that. She uttered nothing. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I truly would not censure her.