True friends share sexual deviancy and starsigns

18 Oct

No, it’s true….they do.

I find that, as I get older, making new friends is almost akin to dating – a cheeky coffee here, a mischievous text message there, long languorous dinners spent confessing all and heartfelt phone calls. Suddenly it sneaks up on you; “I really like this person! Why haven’t they called?” For a woman, the most intense relationship she will ever have is with either her daughter or another female. Not male, in my opinion. Female. We mourn broken friendships like death and giddily delight and share all in the new. It just intensifies as you get older.

There are those rare lassies who you befriend that reduce you to a blushing teen, toeing the dusty ground and altogether too anxious to maintain such intense eye contact. And it was my extreme delight to be in contact with three of them today.

Twittering about the apartment this morning waiting for a gentleman caller of the valuating property kind, I received a most unexpected phone call from the Goddess. The Goddess is the sort of woman who could possibly curse you and your entire family to eternal damnation and yet say it in such a nurturing, silken way you would feel soothed. And she called. Me! On a whim and with her effortlessly brilliant timing. Naturally, it was far too short and nowhere near enough was said – we’re like two seagulls squawking over a dropped chip before one of us has to fly off.

Then, the font of all that is right and good in this world, Miss Yabby (also known to Clairee to my Ouiser – spot the reference, Chick Flicksters) inadvertently let me know that a package was on its merry way to me via Brussels (the country, not the lounge). Not directly, for that would be far too gauche and gauche is not even on the same settee as Miss Yabby, let alone postcode. Just an email tracking mechanism of the parcel to let me know that it, along with her beautiful and caring thoughts, was on its way.

And, just to cap off this most glorious day, I farewelled the sunlight with the Effusive Complimenter at a luxe lounge sipping champagne and mojitos whilst divulging amorous tales and ascending astrological signs.

As I sipped my mojito, I told the lovely and willowy lass of my penchant for mint. It is my catnip. Mint would grow wild and untamed where I grew up (not unlike myself for I was the world’s most painful and eccentric child). It took over a quadrant of the backyard and would abundantly provide absent plucking potential, letting you trace the raised veins of leaves and smell its crushed oils. It still drives me wild with energy and distraction.

When we said goodbye to each other (always enjoyable for the herculean hugs dished out by the lass), the Effusive Complimenter presented me with a parting gift for the train ride home: a sprig of mint, fished from my glass (or even purloined from the bar staff) as we departed. It almost made me sing out in tears. It was a blackened mess by the time I reached my destination from my continual scenting and grasping. Such bliss from such a beautiful gesture.

Please remind me to revisit this post anytime I ever feel alone. Because it is impossible to ever be so when surrounded by such truly amazing femmes.

One Response to “True friends share sexual deviancy and starsigns”

  1. The Kikliest in the Village January 22, 2008 at 12:55 am #

    ‘ehhh *thumbs up* I thoroughly get you on the intense female friendship thing. Good call. Felt I had to comment on this ever-so-slightly dated post (which I appear to have missed as I don’t recall ever reading it). And then I saw it. Your request to be reminded to revisit this post. So I guess that’s why the comment, huh? ;)Love you, sassy minx.

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