Girl Time

We talk about ourselves.

We talk about each other.

We talk about our life.

We talk about others in and around our periphery.

We reminisce.

We laugh about our past.

We giggle and/or groan about our present and its possibilities.

We ponder over our future.

We plan.

We decide.

We eat.

We think.

We talk about men.

We get dreamy-eyed about the ones we want or have in our life.

We picture the combination of potential couples; the combinations that would work, set our life on fire, or just fizzle out.

We argue.

We try and configure our future.

We talk about marriage.

We dream about having a house of our own.

We imagine how sharing spaces with a man for life, would be.

We rue over having a man, a husband, a lover, a friend in and beyond matrimony.

We shudder at the thought of messy bathrooms, dirty socks on the floor, unkempt homes and pasting post-it notes to help prevent that unkemptness.

We live in hopes, dreams and desires.

We share them, discuss them, edit them and settle back, hoping for the best.

We feel our best in pjs and old sweatshirts, huddled over cups of tea and conversations in bed.

We imitate teachers.

We laugh over college days.

We ring in memories together.

We bitch and vent.

We cannot talk enough about sex.

We imagine flings and wild moments.
We discuss what we can do to make those moments better.

We compare the has been, the is and the will be.

We discuss our families.

Girls' nights out are therapeutic. They make room for everything and more. And at the end of it all, you only wish for more encores to happen. 

What you wear, how you look, how deforested or not you are, how you sit or what you even talk about doesn't matter. And those are moments when the last thing you think about is the want for some testosterone-filled company or alcohol for that matter.