These are the gals with whom I now spend my Monday nights since returning to the Triangle. Girls’ Night.  It’s really a must, isn’t it? Last night’s Girls’ Night involved the telling of some rather crazy tales, per the usual.  Veit had gone dumpster diving with one of her clients yesterday, looking for a receipt he lost. However, a complete stranger had gone SEWER diving for Veit this past weekend, as she managed to accidentally hurl her little black purse down into the grimy depths of the Raleigh sewer system.  (I still cannot believe this dude jumped into the sewer for a complete stranger and retrieved her wallet, her keys, her phone charger, you name it… all covered in sludge!) Jessie had most of her belongings packed up in boxes, or set aside for her upcoming move to Baltimore.  Over red wine and Moe’s queso (a fabulous combination, if I do say so myself), we waxed poetic about this being the last Girls’ Night in their current home.  We waited to shed tears until the evening ended and we had all gone our separate ways.  It feels like the end of an era, I must say.  The end of a mighty fine era, indeed. And Wags… well, Wags had the opportunity to be on the receiving end of my professions of undying love for my new friend.  She stands at about 5’1” on a good day, and I’m just under 5’7”.  I was wearing (I kid you not) 5” wedges, and she was wearing flats.  I’m sure she felt at least a tiny little bit smothered as I took her under my arm, literally, and we walked side by side on our journey to Moe’s.  I said as much, and she replied “But you’re so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!”… and, you know… that makes everything better.  Now doesn’t it? But the kicker — the kicker was this.  Just as we settled into our respective spots around the living room with queso and chips and our own selected bevvies for the evening, there was a knock on the door and we were greeted by a gal who once roamed the streets of downtown Raleigh with us in our prime days of debauchery.  She had moved away and had been tearing up the professional scene of Washington, D.C.  And now, now she has come back to us.  For Girls’ Nights.  And queso.  And the evolution of what it means to be girlfriends in your late 20s… with the world seemingly at our fingertips and a limitless amount of possibility. Click for high-res photo

These are the gals with whom I now spend my Monday nights since returning to the Triangle.

Girls’ Night.  It’s really a must, isn’t it?

Last night’s Girls’ Night involved the telling of some rather crazy tales, per the usual. 

Veit had gone dumpster diving with one of her clients yesterday, looking for a receipt he lost. However, a complete stranger had gone SEWER diving for Veit this past weekend, as she managed to accidentally hurl her little black purse down into the grimy depths of the Raleigh sewer system.  (I still cannot believe this dude jumped into the sewer for a complete stranger and retrieved her wallet, her keys, her phone charger, you name it… all covered in sludge!)

Jessie had most of her belongings packed up in boxes, or set aside for her upcoming move to Baltimore.  Over red wine and Moe’s queso (a fabulous combination, if I do say so myself), we waxed poetic about this being the last Girls’ Night in their current home.  We waited to shed tears until the evening ended and we had all gone our separate ways.  It feels like the end of an era, I must say.  The end of a mighty fine era, indeed.

And Wags… well, Wags had the opportunity to be on the receiving end of my professions of undying love for my new friend.  She stands at about 5’1” on a good day, and I’m just under 5’7”.  I was wearing (I kid you not) 5” wedges, and she was wearing flats.  I’m sure she felt at least a tiny little bit smothered as I took her under my arm, literally, and we walked side by side on our journey to Moe’s.  I said as much, and she replied “But you’re so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!”… and, you know… that makes everything better.  Now doesn’t it?

But the kicker — the kicker was this.  Just as we settled into our respective spots around the living room with queso and chips and our own selected bevvies for the evening, there was a knock on the door and we were greeted by a gal who once roamed the streets of downtown Raleigh with us in our prime days of debauchery.  She had moved away and had been tearing up the professional scene of Washington, D.C.  And now, now she has come back to us.  For Girls’ Nights.  And queso.  And the evolution of what it means to be girlfriends in your late 20s… with the world seemingly at our fingertips and a limitless amount of possibility.

Notes