My friend S is here for the weekend. She came down on Friday from Ottawa with her two uncles and has spent the last 24 hours crashing on my couch.
So far we’ve stayed up until ridiculous hours in the morning, drank far too much coffee and discussed gender, sexuality and Star Trek. The older I get the more I like having friends over. Forget girls’ night out. I like girls’ night in.
We’re in our thirties and the sleepover still follows a basic format of staying up late and having the kind of talks you can only have when it’s the ass-end of night or drunk.
These days it’s not so much about boys, it’s about careers and politics, mortgages and sexuality, and alcohol funnily enough despite the fact we don’t drink it all that much anymore. Right now S and I have glasses of bourbon getting diluted by ice and I doubt we’ll drink it.
There are no deep confessions (Been there. That was in our 20s) and no gossip about other friends (Too old and too tired of that shit). What there is a comfort of having a friend over who probably won’t say anything for a while because while you never run out of things to talk about, there’s no longer the need to fill the silence.