Last night we gathered in the East Village apartment like we were still middle schoolers. Jesse and I rode the subway from Brooklyn prepared with a board game and two bottles of wine for a nice evening in with some good friends.
However, once we arrived and started catching up, Kelly, Amber, and I just kept going with the conversation amongst ourselves. We leaned against the countertops in the kitchen sipping red wine and nibbling on peccorino cheese. We screeched our exclamations and whispered our more salacious news. We discussed Manti T'eo, Lance Armstrong, Matt Lauer, Ann Curry, and Joss Whedon. We moved to Amber's bedroom and talked bedroom talk, laughing to the point where no noise comes out -- like we do. We took pictures and talked about the internet and generations and getting old and how crotchety we were going to be. We went to Kelly's bedroom and watched an old video of the three of us from college with tearful laughter. Amber is moving out of the apartment they share next weekend, and Kelly commemorated their time living together by giving her half a heart drawing. It was sweet; there were tears.
And where were the husbands? Parked in front of the television with beers and a video game, laughing on their own. What was supposed to be a fun, little co-ed game night turned into the women talking for hours (a task easy for us three) and the dudes pretending they were NFL football teams. We laughed on opposite sides of the room, occasionally throwing sideways glances at each other. We should have passed notes.
Jesse and I left much too late for a week night; we didn't have parents waiting up at home. We smiled at each other on the ride home, recounting our night to each other even though we spent it in the same place. I'm a little tired today at work, but it's always worth it to have laughed a whole night away with your best friends in the entire world.
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