Fear the Girls' Night


It wasn't until I got married that I began participating in girls' nights in earnest. It appears your need for them increases once there's a ring on your left finger. I had been to a few very painful kumbaya gatherings where I was made to sit in a circle and pretend to be interested in girls' problems whose lives didn't resemble mine in the least. I drank heavily at these affairs (that much doesn't seem to have changed) and would invariably offer up that my life was fine, great or any number of non-committal adjectives. I would then clam up, hoping desperately that no one would ask me to elaborate. I also had to physically restrain myself from laughing at some of the 'issues' that were brought up. I had a very stressful job, full of things like deadlines and bosses and office politics; I just couldn't relate to the hippie gardener who was looking for a more mellow housemate because the one she was living with in Berkeley for, like, $200/month didn't like Phish. This was evidently sacriledge and cause for great concern, especially since said roommate was into electronica, a preference that was nearly incomprehensible. To make matters unbelievably worse, he only smoked pot every now and then. There was a lot of murmuring and earnest ministrations about accepting people for who they are and giving them the space they need to become who they need to be. I chose this moment to slam my beer and run to the bathroom so that no one would accuse me of being unsupportive while I laughed my head off. Hippies evidently lack problems, but no amount of emotion or need to talk about said emotions with corny pseudo psychological platitudes.

The girls' nights that I have now are never billed as such- it's always just dinner or drinks with friends. There's a lot of listening and counseling, sure, but there's also quite a bit of ribbing, story telling and wild laughter- you know the kind that you end up gasping for breath and wiping the tears from your eyes. (You know you've hit a nerve if you can get the entire table going) If someone brings up a lame problem, she is chastized. Various in-laws are drawn and quartered, life before kids is lamented and, if we're at a restaurant, we vow never to come back due to the atrocious service we've received. We never look at our watches, which has caused great consternation from waiters and various husbands.

So gentlemen, if you ever wonder whether your lady is talking about you, you need not wonder any longer; she's telling her girlfriends what she really wanted to say when she walked in the door from a trip to find a muddy dog on the bed, a baby in only a diaper, a husband in his underwear and every single meal you had eaten since she left distributed throughout the house. The girls got to hear the very creative ways she would have used to address you and since she's contractually obliged to like you and vice versa, it's probably better this way. If you're one of the smart ones, you'll do some very gallant gesture right before a girls' night- you'll find that your wife gives you a hug and kiss when she returns instead of that dead eyed stare.