In college, I lived with three women.  We were good friends.  Since college, I’m still really close with two of them, but getting together is a challenge and usually requires a month of planning, but this week, we all happened to be free.  So they came over for dinner and stayed for five hours while we filled each other in about the latest with our families, our finances, our jobs, our apartments, our dating lives, and everything else.

I tried on the dress I bought for my sister-in-law’s wedding, was advised to buy new shoes, and then tried on the other dress I bought for her wedding but am instead wearing to another friend’s wedding, and got told it was the cutest dress ever (I already knew this), but that it still needed new shoes.

And I was just thinking about how much this kind of girl-talk-time is missing from my life.  Because the thing they don’t tell you about living with your boyfriend or your husband is that you are living with a man.  When you ask him to pick shoes, more often than not, he will shrug.  When you change your clothes, he will ask why.  When you come home, really excited, because you bought something fun, he will ask you why you needed it.  He will never help you do your makeup.  He will not watch girly movies with you.  Your entire chick-flick collection will gather dust, and worse, you will feel like yes, they are the dumbest movies ever, because after living with somebody for long enough and only watching action movies or movies you can agree on, you realize that chick-flicks are kind of dumb compared to the approved joint-movie watching movies.  Which include the Bourne trilogy, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, The Italian Job, Oceans 11, Apollo 13, and whatever movie is on Netflix Instant that you can agree on.

Now, I’m not complaining.  My husband is usually around to open jars, reach high things off shelves, install stuff, build things, and has gotten better at helping me pick out outfits, and at least now feels comfortable telling me he doesn’t like the outfit I’m wearing.  And he introduced me to the Bourne Triology, Star Wars, and Indiana Jones.  But he doesn’t understand retail therapy or how important it is to have a fabulous pair of shoes.  So I’m saying, girl-talk, particularly with old roommates who know you, who just nod when you say, “and then, of course, I got irrationally angry about this thing” and say, “well of COURSE!”

I’m just saying, I don’t go dancing.  But I wholly agree that an evening spent in being yourself, and in expending real energy in having a conversation with another person, is genuinely exhilarating.  (Because am I the only one whose married conversations generally consist of, “and how was your day?” “eh, okay” “did you see that construction is still terrible/congress still sucks/somebody is building something cool in our neighborhood?” and not, “oh, cool, you’ve gotten promoted?  How is that going for you?”)

I’m not saying I would take my girlfriends over my marriage.  I’m just saying that having them around matters to me, and I need to make sure I don’t forget that.  (And I will say, I never realized that I really am a girls’ girl until I met these two, because since them, I’ve had a multitude of female friends, but in high school, most of my good friends were guys.)  So are you a girls’ girl or one of the guys?  And do you also miss, occasionally, having roommates?


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