But all the streets are cleaned of streaks/And tarnished not by memories
Last Saturday I went to a "girls night", at the invitation of one of my new friends. I almost didn't go, because I am a bit of a social chicken at times plus was exhausted by the week's hijinks.
I needn't have been concerned about being a social chicken, as my new friend phoned me on Saturday afternoon to offer to pick me up, "so I wouldn't have to arrive alone". Who does that? Is this the so-called country hospitality about which I have heard tell (mostly in ballads also containing the phrase "hey nonny nonny"?)
I'm glad I did go. Not only were "the girls" absolutely lovely, but it was a very pleasant way to spend a Saturday evening. One of the nice things about meeting new people (I was the most local person there, and even my family have only been in the area 28 years) is that your default conversations aren't about what happened to you in Grade 2.
This has been a bit of a bugbear for me - while one of my dearest friends I have known for this long (Hi L!), most of the people I don't see any more I don't see for a reason, one that's mutual and understood. I don't mind moving on - I'd actually prefer it to having endless conversations that start with
"Hey, remember when we were in Grade Six and you were desperately in love with (insert name of crush here)? How funny was that???"
Aside from the fact that it wasn't funny at all, it highlights the horrendous realisation that in fact you don't know anything about your friend beyond those shared experiences, most of which are over a decade (or in some cases, two decades) old.
Anyway, not only could I start my conversations with this group of women as a grown-up, even better, there was a spread which was enormous and (my heart sinks) I fear standard at these events. Three types of potato chip! Four different home made dips!! Three different kinds of dessert!!! And no one wearing anything dressier than jeans, and I was the only person there wearing make-up. It's a far cry from Polly, but certainly more relaxed.
Also, as a direct result of the girls night, I also now know everything there is to know about:
1. The beauty industry labour market in my town
2. Police rosters and scheduling, particularly as they pertain to having three kids and a partner who also works
3. Who gets Brazilian waxing done (emerging markets include girls under 14 and women over 60...WHY for the love of all that is decent, WHY????)
4. Which relationships of people I have met only once are on the brink of dissolution (not who I expected, I must admit)
5. How irritating roll-top tracksuit pants are (made a contribution of my own to that conversation)
Okay, so it wasn't high-intellect. But it was warm and friendly and low-stress. And just what I needed.
Well done, those girls!
I needn't have been concerned about being a social chicken, as my new friend phoned me on Saturday afternoon to offer to pick me up, "so I wouldn't have to arrive alone". Who does that? Is this the so-called country hospitality about which I have heard tell (mostly in ballads also containing the phrase "hey nonny nonny"?)
I'm glad I did go. Not only were "the girls" absolutely lovely, but it was a very pleasant way to spend a Saturday evening. One of the nice things about meeting new people (I was the most local person there, and even my family have only been in the area 28 years) is that your default conversations aren't about what happened to you in Grade 2.
This has been a bit of a bugbear for me - while one of my dearest friends I have known for this long (Hi L!), most of the people I don't see any more I don't see for a reason, one that's mutual and understood. I don't mind moving on - I'd actually prefer it to having endless conversations that start with
"Hey, remember when we were in Grade Six and you were desperately in love with (insert name of crush here)? How funny was that???"
Aside from the fact that it wasn't funny at all, it highlights the horrendous realisation that in fact you don't know anything about your friend beyond those shared experiences, most of which are over a decade (or in some cases, two decades) old.
Anyway, not only could I start my conversations with this group of women as a grown-up, even better, there was a spread which was enormous and (my heart sinks) I fear standard at these events. Three types of potato chip! Four different home made dips!! Three different kinds of dessert!!! And no one wearing anything dressier than jeans, and I was the only person there wearing make-up. It's a far cry from Polly, but certainly more relaxed.
Also, as a direct result of the girls night, I also now know everything there is to know about:
1. The beauty industry labour market in my town
2. Police rosters and scheduling, particularly as they pertain to having three kids and a partner who also works
3. Who gets Brazilian waxing done (emerging markets include girls under 14 and women over 60...WHY for the love of all that is decent, WHY????)
4. Which relationships of people I have met only once are on the brink of dissolution (not who I expected, I must admit)
5. How irritating roll-top tracksuit pants are (made a contribution of my own to that conversation)
Okay, so it wasn't high-intellect. But it was warm and friendly and low-stress. And just what I needed.
Well done, those girls!
posted by gigglewick at
10:53 pm
7 Comments:
The sexual experience is supposed to be better, according to a friend who has had a Brazilian done.
Curious...
Kind regards from Spain.
Paquito.
http://paquito4ever.blogspot.com
Okay Anon, but if there is a growth market in girls under the age of 14 and that is the reason they are getting it done - is that NOT A BIG DEAL????
Also, I question the need when you are 12. I really do. And I am a hairy person too.
Really? A growth market in the barely pubescent? That really does say that there's something desperately wrong with society don't you think? And what mother takes her daughter along for a Brazilian?
But I'm so glad you had a lovely girly time GW. Friends are important, trivial is important. Feeling part of a community is essential for sanity...
I suspect a media beat up. One doesnt get pubes at 12, does one? And do you think any sane business would accept customers of that age.
That sounds delightful GW - it almost makes me want to move to the country. Expect I would miss Polly, Madame Brussels and all the rest too much.
KR,
Me too.
I do love Polly and its "19th-century scented" Aperol cocktails.
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