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Just before Christmas, I encountered an extraordinary episode. I believe it proved instructive. This happened at a meeting of a group of longtime companions, who happen to be dentists, but it's not important. The attending party were solely men, which turns out to be key.

A Novel Scenario

The location was a bar and eatery experiencing a brisk business. A wasted daytime was had by all. Good fare, fine libations and unexpectedly entertaining anecdotes about dentistry. Naturally, the moment dawned for trips to the men's room. Those who departed, I vaguely observed, looked to be gone a significant period. I didn’t dwell on why this might have been, but when it came to my go, the mystery was solved.

I turned the corner, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the gents' lavatory. Not a single person waiting for the women’s toilet, but a considerable queue for the men’s. What bizarre turn was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this line recognised.

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 cognizant that, for women, being forced to wait to use a restroom is the norm. How many times have I observed women waiting in a line while men in the identical venue have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the annoyance of having to queue to use a toilet, there’s a tinge of indignity about lingering there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to endure. It was decidedly bracing to experience a dose of it myself, observing the opposite gender walk straight through the portal while I was obliged to stand solemnly in line with my mates, looking distractedly at anything we had in our jackets and checking our phones.

The Genre of Restroom Line Conversation

There’s a entire conversational genre here – lavatory line banter – of which men have minimal knowledge. Women, I presume, have learned to be rather good at it, sharing polite remarks and an engaging insight or two.

About this topic I’ve polled some women of my circle. The consensus is that queue-based interaction is limited to the rare exasperated look and the phrase: “Forget this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague mentioned it’s only at the washbasins afterwards that chat tends to begin.

Were I a lady, I’d not spend a moment on either small talk or quiet. If I was compelled, over and over, to stand in a public line only for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d rant angrily like crazy at the utter unfairness of it. A handy measure for any advanced society would be equal waiting times in urination waiting times. I’m seeking out studies on this.

Comradely Chat in the Queue

During my time in my wait, I tried to spark some friendly chat going about this unprecedented circumstance of ours. I sighed a bit, gave a weary look and uttered something like: “So, this is an unpleasant difference, doesn’t it chaps?”

Someone chuckled, a second looked blank, a third appeared embarrassed. Yet another shook his head as if this was a further manifestation of modern woes, woke madness etc. For the most part, quiet reigned. Someone came out, fastening his trousers. The line shuffled up a spot. Two more men entered the back of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Moment

A lady glided out of the next-door restroom, all fresh and at ease. It was perfectly okay for some. I grinned bashfully at her, attempting to convey acknowledgement of this reversed state of affairs. She remarked: “Don't come to me for sympathy, you jerk. Come back when you’ve done this another hundred times and then I could give you the time.”

Truthfully, she did not utter that. She said anything. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I honestly wouldn’t blame her.