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Just before the festive season, I experienced an extraordinary episode. I think it proved instructive. This happened at a gathering of several mates, who are incidentally dental professionals, but this isn't important. The assembled crowd were all blokes, which turns out to be key.

A Strange Situation

The venue was a bar and eatery experiencing a roaring trade. A forgotten afternoon was shared by the group. Fine fare, good drink and remarkably amusing anecdotes about teeth. Inevitably, the moment arrived for visits to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I partially registered, appeared to be absent a significant period. I didn't contemplate the reason this could be, but when it was my turn, everything was revealed.

I turned the corner, and what should I find but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. No queue at all for the female facilities, but a substantial line for the gents'. What fresh hell was this? This was not a reality any of us in this line recognised.

A Sample of Everyday Life

For the avoidance of doubt, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any lady here. I am fully aware that, for ladies, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is standard practice. Repeatedly have I seen women standing in a line while men in the comparable place have to do the opposite?

Beyond the hassle of having to queue to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of humiliation about standing there, anticipating something that men typically don’t have to wait for. It was profoundly bracing to experience a dose of it myself, seeing the other sex walk straight through the entrance while I was compelled to wait patiently with others with my fellow fellas, angling away at anything we had in our jackets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Art of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a whole conversational genre here – lavatory line banter – of which men have scant experience. Females, I imagine, have developed skills to be fairly skilled at it, engaging in pleasantries and an engaging insight or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some women of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that queue-based dialogue is restricted to the rare weary glance and the phrase: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A workmate mentioned it’s only at the sinks subsequently that conversation tends to break out.

If I was a lady, I’d refrain from on both niceties or silence. If I was obliged, over and over, to queue in a common queue only for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d vent my spleen like crazy at the pure unfairness of it. A handy metric for any advanced culture would be gender parity in wee lining-up periods. I’m seeking out research on this.

Brotherly Interaction in the Line

Back in my queue, I attempted to spark some friendly chat started about this novel situation of ours. I sighed a bit, rolled my eyes and said something along the lines of: “Ah, this is an irksome difference, isn't it lads?”

One person grinned, a second seemed nonplussed, a third individual appeared embarrassed. Yet another gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another example of broken Britain, political correctness etc. For the most part, silence reigned. Someone emerged, adjusting his clothing. The queue advanced a place. Another two men entered the back of it. I let out a breath.

A Knowing Interaction

A female wafted out of the neighbouring toilet, all fresh and relaxed. It was perfectly okay for some. I smiled sheepishly at her, endeavouring to express an understanding of this topsy-turvy scenario. Her response was: “Don’t look to me for solidarity, you bastard. Reappear when you’ve done this another hundred times and only then I may give you the time.”

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