Sunday, 23 February 2014

Disappointing nights

Last night I went out for a girlie night.
Plans to go out in Cardiff.
I struggled to remember the last time I had a night out in the city.
I remembered it to be my hen night.
In 2010.
As I prepared.
And worried about what would best hide my weight gain since that night.
And where we would end up.
In one of those clubs where I could queue to get in.
Pay to get in.
And spend a fortune of alcohol.
And dance out of beat to a plethora of songs I've never heard.

I got stressed.
I checked out the ASOS clearance, and invested in a new dress to instill confidence.
Don't tell Mr J, but I siphoned monies to fund my night out.

And then we met.
And we were there.
And we were as we always have been.
As for nearly half my life.

Not queuing as my body goes numb with cold.
Not hopping from one foot to another, as my feet got more numb in the shoes that I love but infrequently wear, for good reason.
Not freezing because coats are an unnecessary extra.
Not gasping at extortionate prices.
Not getting uncomfortable as I realised my personal space has increased and I feel invaded.

Here we were
Back to where I spent so many uni days and nights.
Back where I spent many reunions on trips home over the years.
Back to where we remember the last menu but not the food on the new menu.
With subject matter so different than it was at 18.

We are still.

Laughing. Opinionated. Outraged. Accepting. Missing the point. Changing. Growing. Living.
Above all we are still accepting.
We are individuals.
Bonded not only by the years gone by.
But where we are now.
A ridiculous sense of loyalty which knows no bounds.

And yet, every other day, we live our own lives.
We get on with it.
We go into battle.
We accept.
We might challenge.
We are individuals.

We no longer have to suffer fools.
To smile inanely at "mesmerising" conversation.
We do not have to check over our shoulder.
"Is He still watching me?"
We are talking without ulterior motive.
And it is honest.

I am reminded of the second song Seren learnt the words to.
(Please don't say you recognise it, I have grappled with acceptance).

"Days like these lead to...
Nights like these lead to"

And I conclude with....


Too many years to remember.
Not enough years to forget.
Not as many years wiser.
But as many years accepting.

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