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Shortly before the festive season, I encountered an remarkable incident. I feel it did me good. This happened at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who are incidentally dental professionals, but it's not important. The present party were solely men, which turns out to be significant.

A Novel Predicament

The location was a bar and eatery doing a excellent custom. A wasted session was enjoyed by everyone. Fine fare, nice libations and remarkably entertaining tales about oral health. As expected, the moment arrived for trips to the male facilities. Those who ventured off, I partially registered, seemed to be gone a significant period. I didn’t dwell on why this was, but when it was me next, everything was revealed.

Upon turning the bend, and what awaited me but a long queue for the men's restroom. No queue at all for the women’s toilet, but a considerable queue for the gents'. What fresh hell was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering knew.

A Taste of the Norm

Let me state unequivocally, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any lady here. I am acutely conscious that, for ladies, needing to line up to use a convenience 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?

Beyond the hassle of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a whiff of embarrassment about standing there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to endure. It was decidedly bracing to have a sample of it myself, seeing the opposite gender breeze through the entrance while I was obliged to wait patiently in queue with my mates, angling away at something we had in our pockets and scrolling through our handsets.

The Practice of Restroom Line Conversation

There’s a whole style of dialogue here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have minimal familiarity. Women, I presume, have become adept to be rather good at it, engaging in polite remarks and an interesting insight or two.

Regarding this I’ve asked some women of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that within-the-line interaction is confined to the occasional weary glance and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the male.” A associate informed me it’s merely at the hand-washing stations subsequently that conversation tends to start up.

If I was a female, I’d not spend a moment on either niceties or silence. If I was obliged, over and over, to stand in a public line simply for the opportunity to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like crazy at the sheer unfairness of it. A handy measure for any advanced community would be equal waiting times in urination lining-up periods. I’m seeking out research on this.

Male Banter in the Queue

During my time in my wait, I tried to spark some male camaraderie started about this unprecedented situation of ours. I sighed a bit, rolled my eyes and remarked something along the lines of: “Well, this represents an disagreeable variation, isn't it chaps?”

Someone chuckled, someone else looked blank, a other man appeared embarrassed. A further person rolled his eyes as if this was one more symptom of broken Britain, cultural decline etc. Otherwise, silence reigned. An individual exited, adjusting his clothing. The line advanced a position. Two more men entered the back of it. I sighed.

A Silent Interaction

A female emerged out of the neighbouring toilet, all fragrant and unhurried. It was all right for some. I smiled sheepishly at her, endeavouring to convey recognition of this reversed scenario. Her response was: “Don't come to me for support, you jerk. Reappear when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and only then I may give you the courtesy.”

Actually, she didn’t say that. She uttered anything. But I am convinced that’s what she was feeling. And I honestly wouldn’t fault her.