Fridays, oh much I love Fridays. It is actually my third favourite word beginning with the letter f – after “fierce” – and “fuck” of course. On that fifth day of the week, the one that precedes the weekend I swear to be a better person as long as the pact we made with my squad ages ago; when we were young, single and most of all childless. still takes place.
Boyfriends, husbands, cats, dogs, and crying babies – we get to meet once a week for some good-old girl time. When at first, I introduced this concept of meeting up once a week and drinking wine for the rest of our lives, till we get old and senile; I honestly thought to myself that we would never make it. Yet here we are every other Friday, seated at a round table consuming a great amount of booze and casually chatting about our news to the gang and try as hard as we can to let our problems aside even for two hours as it is.
I don’t really mean to brag, but being the forever single one till very lately, I was the one to pressure them into meeting every week. They might be in a relationship or a marriage -whatever- but that does not equal forgetting about your friends, who so eagerly have repeatedly heard each and one of the mindless dramas till that wedding ring was on your finger. Girlfriends before men – that’s how it goes.
Unfortunately, over the past few months, we didn’t have the chance of being punctual for our dates since I, also known as their proud leader, had actually fallen in love. Staying at home for one or two weekends was alright. But enclosing myself for more than four Fridays within four walls; that’s a loud no from me.
I do love my boyfriend – I genuinely do. But I love my friends more, I love them and I missed them so much. With no second thoughts, I called one and each of them to apologize for losing track of me and how we must meet.
Excited as ever for our little reunion I sat in the middle of the table to have a clear perspective to everyone’s faces – how I missed their stupid faces. Emotional, I observed them and, after five minutes had passed by, I caught a strange vibe wandering around the table. So far, it was me who was doing all the talking, none of them dared to interrupt me. They all seemed so distant and drawn into their own little worlds; fearfully miserable they appeared. Only I failed to notice, drowned in my own excitement to see them.
“He is cheating on me.” My friend to the right suddenly announced and burst into tears. The blood inside my veins had gingerly heated and I swear that if I had that bastard in front of me I would so gladly punch him right in the mouth.
“My boyfriend wants me to move out.” Another one broke her silence from across the table with watery eyes as well.
“And my husband doesn’t want to have a baby yet.” The one sitting opposite me declared sighing heavily.
“I think I am not into men anymore. I like women.” My friend at the corner revealed with a shy smile. Well, here’s one who seems happy with what’s going on in her life. For the rest of them are so horribly depressing. Inside me coiled this question which I really wished to ask. If they were really so unhappy with their lives why did they bother to pretend otherwise? We are friends, soul mates – we are supposed to tell each other the truth.
Agreeing on how we shall not discuss further of how sorrowful their relationship status has become, they encouraged me to talk about this new boyfriend of mine. He’s smart, funny and most of all he’s my support system – he enforces me to grow mentally and spiritually. We never fight, he’s always down to discussing and solving our disagreements without screams, I explained with the most heartwarming voice. I may have been the last one to find a partner but it was for sure worth the wait.
Immediately, they began interrogating me about the frequency of our sexual encounters and that it is certainly not normal that we do not fight. It might be that he is cheating on me as well and that I should absolutely check his phone and laptop. They characterized this relationship to be premature and that I certainly mustn’t rush to live with him. Filling my head with all these ideas, I returned home to my loving boyfriend who so heartlessly waited for me by the sofa.
“I have this great need for us to fight.” I told him with crossed arms. My friends said that you only meet one’s true self through quarrelling. With a confused face he sat there staring at me, asking me of why we need to fight.
“But we never fight. Do you regard us a cynical couple for not bothering to argue with one another?” I questioned him with a sad face.
“We are certainly not. We are two mature adults who love and respect each other. If you wish to fight so that you feel more relieved with yourself then do it. But I am pretty sure there is another more fun way for me to make you relieved.” He quoted and with a raised brow showed me the way to the bedroom.
What an idiot I am for listening to them in the first place. They surely know nothing about my relationship because they simply aren’t in it. No matter how realistic one is with describing her relationship, no one can really know of what really happens behind that door when the two partners are by themselves. No more getting affected by someone else’s story. They are only jealous because for once in my life I’m happier than they are.
Author: Marianna Ioannou
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