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Shortly before the holidays, I had an unusual episode. I think it proved instructive. This happened at a meeting of some old friends, who are, as it happens dentists, but this isn't relevant. The assembled group were exclusively male, which is significant.

A Strange Scenario

The establishment was a pub/restaurant experiencing a roaring trade. A wasted session was shared by the group. Fine food, good drink and unexpectedly humorous anecdotes about dentistry. As expected, the time dawned for visits to the men's room. Those who departed, I partially registered, appeared to be away a significant period. I didn't contemplate the reason this was, but when it became my turn, all became clear.

Upon turning the bend, and what should I find but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the female facilities, but a great long one for the men's. What bizarre turn was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this line knew.

A Taste of Common Reality

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for empathy from any woman here. I am obviously cognizant that, for ladies, needing to line up to use a restroom is standard practice. Repeatedly have I seen women standing in a queue while men in the identical venue have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the annoyance of needing to wait to use a toilet, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about standing there, awaiting something that men usually don’t have to experience. It was decidedly enlightening to get a taste of it myself, observing the opposite gender breeze through the portal while I was forced to wait patiently in queue with my fellow fellas, looking distractedly at anything we had in our jackets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Art of Lavatory Queue Conversation

There’s a whole form of small talk here – lavatory line banter – of which men have scant knowledge. Ladies, I imagine, have learned to be rather good at it, engaging in polite remarks and an interesting insight or two.

On this I’ve consulted some women of my acquaintance. The consensus is that within-the-line communication is limited to the occasional eye roll and the phrase: “Screw this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague mentioned it’s only at the sinks later that conversation tends to begin.

Had I been a female, I’d refrain from on both small talk or quiet. If I was forced, repeatedly, to wait in a shared procession merely for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like crazy at the pure inequity of it. A handy benchmark for any advanced community would be gender parity in wee lining-up periods. I’m looking for data on this.

Brotherly Banter in the Procession

During my time in my wait, I tried to initiate some friendly chat going about this unprecedented circumstance of ours. I sighed a bit, showed exasperation and remarked something along the lines of: “So, this is an disagreeable change, right lads?”

Someone chuckled, another looked blank, a other man looked sheepish. A further person rolled his eyes as if this was one more manifestation of a failing society, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, quiet reigned. Someone exited, adjusting his clothing. The group advanced a spot. Another two men took a place at the rear of it. I let out a breath.

An Unspoken Moment

A woman glided out of the next-door facility, all fresh and unhurried. It was just fine for some. I grinned bashfully at her, trying to express acknowledgement of this reversed scenario. She said: “Don't turn to me for sympathy, you bastard. Reappear when you’ve endured this a hundred more times and at that point I could give you the time.”

In reality, she never spoke that. She didn’t say anything. But I am convinced that’s what she was thinking. And I honestly could not blame her.