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Just before the festive season, I had an remarkable episode. I think it did me good. This occurred at a meeting of some old friends, who are, as it happens tooth doctors, but that’s not relevant. The attending group were solely men, which is key.

A Strange Scenario

The venue was a tavern enjoying a roaring trade. A lost session was shared by the group. Nice food, nice libations and surprisingly amusing anecdotes about teeth. As expected, the time dawned for excursions to the men's room. Those who departed, I half-noticed, looked to be absent a considerable while. I didn't contemplate why this might have been, but when it was me next, everything was revealed.

I turned the corner, and what did I discover but a long queue for the gents' lavatory. An empty space for the women’s toilet, but a substantial line for the gents'. What fresh hell was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this queue were accustomed to.

A Sample of Common Reality

For the avoidance of doubt, I am not asking for pity from any female reader here. I am fully aware that, for ladies, having to queue to use a convenience is an everyday occurrence. Repeatedly have I observed women waiting in a row while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the hassle of needing to wait to use a toilet, there’s a hint of embarrassment about standing there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was profoundly bracing to get a taste of it myself, seeing the other sex glide through the portal while I was obliged to wait patiently with others with my fellow fellas, fiddling at something we had in our pockets and checking our phones.

The Genre of Restroom Line Conversation

There’s a whole style of dialogue here – lavatory line banter – of which men have minimal experience. Females, I presume, have become adept to be rather good at it, exchanging pleasantries and an notable observation or two.

On this I’ve polled some lady acquaintances of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that intra-queue dialogue is confined to the odd exasperated look and the phrase: “Forget this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A workmate told me it’s merely at the hand-washing stations subsequently that discussion tends to break out.

Were I a woman, I’d refrain from on both pleasantries or reticence. If I was compelled, over and over, to queue in a shared procession merely for the opportunity to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the utter unfairness of it. A handy metric for any advanced culture would be gender parity in toilet queue durations. I’m looking for data on this.

Comradely Interaction in the Queue

Back in my wait, I attempted to spark some male camaraderie started about this new circumstance of ours. I sighed a bit, gave a weary look and remarked something to the effect of: “Well, this represents an disagreeable variation, isn't it lads?”

One person grinned, another appeared confused, a third individual seemed awkward. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was a further example of modern woes, political correctness etc. For the most part, silence ensued. An individual exited, adjusting his clothing. The group shuffled up a position. A couple more men took a place at the rear of it. I let out a breath.

A Knowing Moment

A lady glided out of the adjacent restroom, all fragrant and unhurried. It was all right for some. I grinned sheepishly at her, endeavouring to express recognition of this topsy-turvy scenario. She remarked: “Don't turn to me for support, you blighter. Come back when you’ve done this a hundred more times and only then I may give you the time.”

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