My brother once wisely told me two things. One, girls wear makeup and perfume because they’re ugly and they stink. Two, this was his response when I told him maybe I should be done dating boys and start dating girls, “why the hell would you do that? Girls are crazy!”
I would never ever argue that girls aren’t crazy. I’ve long contended that all girls are crazy, it’s just to what extent do they allow you to see it. Or in laymen’s terms, how well they hide it. I’ve been privy, if not the strategist, to some pretty crazy covert operations. But, I do not want to incriminate myself at this time. Once I’m properly hitched, I’ll let all my skeletons out of the closet. Like I said, it’s how much of my craziness will I give away? Ha!
The best part about finding yourself in the midst of a gaggle of girls is that you can let your hair down, and know that you are in the company of like-minded souls. You can laugh at nothing. You can laugh until you pee your pants. You can laugh until you find yourself crying. Conversely, you can cry with no shame. You can mourn and lament stupid, inconsequential trials or people. And you know that your girlies may not be able to solve your problems, but they most certainly will distract you from your pain. Love you with no shame. And no matter what, they will have something rude to say about your enemy.
I love my girls. Sometimes we get so boy crazy, we forget to look back to what’s really important. But at the end of this lifetime, women outlive the men, so who’s going to be there to collect cats with you? Who’s going to be there when you pee your pants at Nordstrom in the shoe department and laugh with you until she pees herself too? Who’s going to sit up all afternoon at the slots with you in your jazzy chairs?
Your girls. That’s who.
1 comment:
I love the Pechanga!
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