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Just before the festive season, I experienced an extraordinary situation. I believe it did me good. This happened at a meeting of some old friends, who are, as it happens dental professionals, but it's not relevant. The attending group were exclusively male, which proves to be relevant.

An Unfamiliar Situation

The venue was a bar and eatery experiencing a brisk business. A lost session was shared by the group. Nice food, nice libations and surprisingly entertaining anecdotes about teeth. Inevitably, the time came for excursions to the gents. Those who departed, I partially registered, seemed to be away a considerable while. I didn't ponder the reason this could be, but when it was my turn, the mystery was solved.

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 women’s toilet, but a substantial line for the gents'. What strange new world was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this queue recognised.

An Experience of Common Reality

Let me state unequivocally, I do not seek or anticipate pity from any female reader here. I am obviously conscious that, for women, needing to line up to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I witnessed women standing in a line while men in the same establishment have to do nothing of the sort?

Apart from the annoyance of needing to wait to use a facility, there’s a whiff of embarrassment about standing there, awaiting something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was truly bracing to get a taste of it myself, watching the other sex breeze through the portal while I was forced to wait patiently with others with my companions, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our jackets and consulting our mobile devices.

The Art of Restroom Line Conversation

There’s a complete form of small talk here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have minimal knowledge. Ladies, I surmise, have become adept to be fairly skilled at it, sharing polite remarks and an interesting observation or two.

On this I’ve consulted some lady acquaintances of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that within-the-line dialogue is limited to the rare weary glance and the phrase: “Forget this, I’m going to use the male.” A colleague told me it’s merely at the sinks subsequently that conversation tends to break out.

Had I been a lady, I’d refrain from on either niceties or reticence. If I was obliged, over and over, to queue in a public line only for the chance to use the toilet, I’d vent my spleen like nobody’s business at the pure injustice of it. A useful metric for any modern community would be equal waiting times in wee waiting times. I’m looking for data on this.

Comradely Chat in the Line

Back in my queue, I attempted to spark some friendly chat going about this new situation of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, gave a weary look and uttered something like: “So, this represents an disagreeable difference, doesn’t it chaps?”

A fellow smiled, another seemed nonplussed, a third seemed awkward. A further person shook his head as if this was a further symptom of modern woes, political correctness etc. For the most part, silence ensued. A man emerged, fastening his trousers. The line shuffled up a place. A couple more men joined the end of it. I exhaled.

A Silent Moment

A female wafted out of the next-door restroom, all clean and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I grinned bashfully at her, attempting to convey recognition of this topsy-turvy state of affairs. She remarked: “Don't turn to me for sympathy, you blighter. Come back when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and only then I might give you the time of day.”

Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She uttered nothing. But I know that’s what she was feeling. And I honestly could not blame her.