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Just before the festive season, I experienced an extraordinary episode. I feel it did me good. This took place at a gathering of several mates, who are, as it happens dentists, but it's not relevant. The attending party were exclusively male, which proves to be significant.

A Novel Scenario

The establishment was a bar and eatery experiencing a roaring trade. A lost session was enjoyed by everyone. Fine fare, good beverages and unexpectedly humorous anecdotes about dentistry. As expected, the point arrived for trips to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I partially registered, seemed to be absent a significant period. I didn't ponder the reason this might have been, but when it was me next, the mystery was solved.

Upon turning the bend, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, but a substantial line 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 Everyday Life

For the avoidance of doubt, I do not seek or anticipate empathy from any female reader here. I am obviously aware that, for females, having to queue to use a public toilet is the norm. On countless occasions have I observed women queuing in a row while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the inconvenience of needing to wait to use a facility, there’s a tinge of indignity about standing there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to endure. It was truly sobering to experience a dose of it myself, watching the women glide through the door while I was forced to wait patiently in queue with my companions, angling away at anything we had in our trouser pockets and scrolling through our handsets.

The Genre of Restroom Line Conversation

There’s a entire form of small talk here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have little knowledge. Ladies, I presume, have learned to be fairly skilled at it, engaging in polite remarks and an notable observation or two.

On this I’ve polled some lady acquaintances of my knowledge. The general agreement is that intra-queue interaction is limited to the rare eye roll and the utterance: “Screw this, I’m going to use the male.” A associate informed me it’s exclusively at the hand-washing stations later that chat tends to start up.

If I was a lady, I’d refrain from on both small talk or reticence. If I was compelled, time and again, to queue in a public line only for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d vent my spleen like crazy at the utter injustice of it. A handy measure for any civilised society would be balanced access in toilet waiting times. I’m researching research on this.

Comradely Banter in the Line

Back in my queue, I attempted to initiate some brotherly banter going about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, showed exasperation and said something to the effect of: “Well, this makes an disagreeable change, doesn’t it chaps?”

One person chuckled, someone else appeared confused, a third individual looked sheepish. Yet another gave a dismissive wave as if this was a further example of a failing society, woke madness etc. Aside from that, silence ensued. A man came out, fastening his trousers. The queue shuffled up a spot. Two more men entered the rear of it. I exhaled.

A Knowing Exchange

A lady glided out of the adjacent toilet, all fragrant and at ease. It was all right for some. I grinned bashfully at her, endeavouring to convey an understanding of this topsy-turvy scenario. She remarked: “Don't turn to me for support, you jerk. Reappear when you’ve experienced this on a regular basis and then I may give you the courtesy.”

In reality, she didn’t say that. She said nothing. But I know that’s what she was implying. And I truly wouldn’t censure her.