Female Companionship

There was a girls-night the previous weekend. There were four of us women, some of us close, some of us strangers, gathered together at one house for a pleasant evening of delightful treats and stimulating conversation. It started out just like that, you know. We went to a restaurant and had terrible service we could complain about to create an appropriate bond. Then, we went back to the house to enjoy each others company and talk about petty things we all had in common. Children, animals, movies, handsome actors, whatever. It was amazing though, how twisted and powerful the evening became. All of us found ourselves spilling our hearts out to each other in ways that we never thought we'd be comfortable with. We found that it was easier to share our disasterous histories with others that either shared the same feelings, or were even more chaotic and terrible than ours were. Histories, that we have learned to hide and accepted that their place was NEVER on the table. It was extremely eye opening, because you know what it came down to? The base point of the whole night? We're all fucked up. No matter how perfect and exemplary we may appear to the outside world. We all have shit.