This Fish Needs A Bicycle

unfettered

I came home from Astoria last night feeling all but totally healed from yesterday’s minor funk.

The boys were no-shows, and I do believe a toast went round the table when we discovered this was the case -- not because they aren’t totally integral parts of a Tribe gathering, but because there was something really great in discovering we’d landed ourselves in the middle of a few hours of unfettered Girl Time. Four girls, two bottles of wine, assorted cheeses and sweet sopraseta, the conversation was giddy, sweet, funny (maybe a little catty) and most importantly, ever so healing.

Something I’ve decided: I feel completely free to have any number of unsuccessful romantic relationships as long as I choose my girlfriends wisely. Oh yes, so that smacks of Sex and the City a little bit, but on some level it’s true.

Seriously, you’re rocking the jackpot when you have girls who will listen to your Too Much Information spiel, withhold any sort of comment that resembles, “oooh, you shoulda been smarter,” and then lean across the table, cigarette torches blazing, and say,

“You? Are fucking fabulous.”

I hate to sound like a cheesy MasterCard commercial, but that is priceless.

Almost as priceless as the moment the table realizes that you are the one single girl there. Or when you realize you’re also the drunkest one there, by stumbling into the kitchen stove.

Drunk on a Tuesday, talkin’ about totally taboo, inappropriate subjects. My mother would be so proud.