I don’t like girls

I’ve never had lots of girly friends. The phrase ‘girl’s night’ instills such fear in me, that I often make my excuses and stay at home, hiding under my duvet. Hen nights are only bearable if there are like-minded misogynists to whinge with. I hate Sex and the City with a passion. I didn’t wear dresses until I was well into my twenties and I don’t believe in swapping stories about underwear, handbags or haircuts.
But recently, I’ve come to realise that surrounding myself with boys, hanging out only with male friends, has left a hole somewhere. They’re fun, but their shoulders are not comfy to cry on, and they actively run away if I mention that I’m broody, or other such things.
And so today, meeting three lovely ladies who I went to university with, I felt better than I have done in a long time. Yes, we talked about wedding dresses and hair removal and cleavages, but I was alright with that, because we could also talk about our fears – we won’t wear bikinis anymore (why didn’t we do that in our beautiful twenties?), we hate our hair / skin / bums, we worry about relationships, or that our jobs are going nowhere. Do you remember that purple velvet trouser suit? The dinners we made at Uni? That time, with that boy, who’s now a vicar somewhere?
These are girls who I have loved for years and who still feature in my life. I am truly blessed to know these people.
And so, for the Best Friend who complains she never gets Thank You cards from anyone anymore, count this as a Thank You for being you. Wonderful, perfect you. And to my other perfect girls, too – I love you.


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