Do you know Carolyn from Champagne Cartel?
You bloody well should. We started with a mild Facebook/blog comment here and then, which propelled swiftly into pen pals. When we finally swapped phone numbers it felt as though we’d known each other forever and now I consider her my friend.
My crazy, nutty, funny, clever and generous friend.
In fact, it a bit freaky because sometimes I wonder how it’s possible that I can have so many similarities with one person…. could we be twins?
Anyway, I asked if she’d do me a guest post, and I got something even better.
Check her out….
I have taken to falling madly in love with new friends lately. Oh, I love the old ones too, of course, they’re like those smelly old ugg boots that live in your cupboard and get dragged out in winter to schlep about the place with us – mmmmm, comfy.
But old friends have heard all my jokes. They know my stories. They are wise to my hackneyed old shtick.
But that ‘new friend’ smell just can’t be beat. New friends are full of potential. They haven’t smelt your farts yet, and they don’t know about that disgusting thing you did on Year 10 camp that you only let slip three times after way too many G&Ts.
And these days I fall totally, helplessly in love. But not in the rudey-dudey way. Just beautiful, soft, keep-your-tongue-to-yourself ladylove. And I reckon that’s even way more fun than falling in the sexy love.
Here’s how I see it:
A) Falling in platonic love with new friends: excited banter, drinking wine, compliments (I love your hair; no, I love your hair!), funny text messages, laughing, cocktails, dancing in bars, selfies, slightly self-conscious hugs, more laughter.
B) Falling in potentially sexy love: excited banter, drinking wine, flirty text messages, laughing, waxing your legs, waxing your lady garden, plucking your eyebrows, curling your lashes (like he would notice, seriously), worrying about your breath, buying condoms, sexing (including doing that thing you don’t really like all that much but do with him anyway because, you know, he’s so nice), washing sheets, worrying about whether he’s getting back with his ex or whether he’ll call or whether his mother will think you’re a whore.
I think I’ll take option A please, Larry.
And there is something delightfully refreshing about making women friends when you’re – ahem – of a certain age – don’t you think? There’s none of that bullshit competition that everyone pretends isn’t there when you’re 23. Is she prettier than me? Was he looking at her? Was she talking about me in the toilets? I’ll never have an arse like hers…
My latest ladylove experience has been to totally fall madly in love with my host here, the delightful Danielle Colley. I met her in Sydney at a Kidspot blogger bash, and although I already liked her cyberself a whole lot, we experienced a magical romance that night – fuelled largely by tequila and a very hot pantsuit.
But I think she’s amazing. As, clearly, do you because you’re here reading her blog even though she has let some shmo on here you’ve never heard of. And I think I’ll be her friend for a very long time – even though she does have a better arse than me.
If you made it to the bottom of this post, that means WE should be best friends too! Please come visit me at Champagne Cartel so we can hang out and I can talk about your arse.