line at the bar vs. line in the bath

You walk up to the bar to get a drink and the bartender shimmies over for your order - albeit ahead of the girl at the end who was there first. Said girl scowls, makes eyes, maybe talks some trash to her friend - all aimed at you, of course - because your drink came 30 seconds faster than hers.
But enter the ladies' room for some panty-dropping nose powdering and women are falling all over themselves to allow the other to go first. No you ... you, really, it's fine ... no, really you go ...
And why? Why are we ready to kill one another for a quicker cocktail but willing to jump around crosslegged an extra two minutes to allow first-right to stall usage?
One word ... MEN.
There are men outside of that that "Ladies Only" door, at the bar, sitting on stools, buying us drinks. But once it swings closed and we're left alone with our familiar xxs, we relax. Maybe we find comfort in the estrogen pool. A chance to breathe, get the green piece out of our teeth, compliment the cute dress and killer red lipstick, slouch, check the breasts, fluff the hair. In our haste to prolong that moment, we send each other into the stall first, with an air of sisterhood.
That really just means we want another 2 minutes of lettin' it all hang out.