I'm up for hanging out with some boys lately. It's been too long. I'm not talking sex here, just big hands, chicken wings, beer, and man humour. Evan may be someone else's husband now (thankfully), but he was my best friend and roommate first. He once told me that he wished we were the only two people in the world that farted because when we fart it's funny, but when anyone else does it's disgusting. That's how close we are.
"Hey Ev, what are you doing this weekend?"
"Not much really. I'm going to the races on Saturday with a group of guys I'm in no mood to go out with."
"Fun. The races! Can I come?"
"Yeah, for sure!"
"All the husbands of Lucy's friends."
"Oh." I couldn't keep the dissapointment out of my voice. A girl can't just go out as a lone female with a group of married men...can she....? Yet, I still had hope. "I guess maybe I shoudn't really be coming out for that kind of a guys night, right?" Please say 'of course you should', please say 'of course you should', please say 'of course you should', chanted my inner voice.
"Yeah, you're probably right."
Who the fuck wants to see the trotters anyway? That's all that races at this time of year. That's so 'best in show'. Pansies.