Sue and I have had an every-other-year girls’ weekend going for a while now. We genuinely look forward to it and a good time is always had by all. We’ve always gone with our friends Quiet But Funny and Mrs. Matt Damon. Last year Supermodel and Ms. Cocktail joined in. We shopped. We ate. We drank. We slept in beds with people who weren’t looking to get lucky. No one heard the word “Mommy” from the time we left Saturday morning until dinner time Sunday night. That’s pretty damn near perfection.
Our girls’ weekend is usually in March. And this is an “off” year. One could get a little depressed about that. March is more than halfway over and it’s been a pretty snowy, miserable winter. Hell, there is still snow on the ground at this very moment. A girls’ weekend would be a nice “pick me up” right about now. If only…
But wait! (Now don’t think I’m nuts.) I’ll be at a swim meet all weekend with Betty. (Swimming myself, not watching Ladybug swim.) Kind of lame for a girls’ weekend, right? No. Fu@#ing. Way. As some of you already know, Betty is the type of girl who would build a Christmas tree out of tampons as a hostess gift. (Oh, to be a fly on the wall at that party.) Betty meets you for a run on your birthday and presents you with booze, at 9:30 in the morning. A text thread with Betty can start out about husbands with Santa bellies and end with mud wrestling. I find Betty to be very entertaining. Who wouldn’t? You’re a little jealous right now, just reading this, admit it.
Now, there will probably be no booze and if there is any shopping, it will probably be with the bathing suit vendors at the meet. Heck, there isn’t even going to be much eating out, unless you count eating energy bars, granola, bananas, and peanut butter sandwiches on a pool deck as eating “out.” We will smell like chlorine pretty much non-stop all weekend and we will be tired. There goes that jealousy thing, right? Not likely. We’re still having a weekend away. Everyone we talk to will call us by our first names. I type “weekend away” and “call us by our first names” and you’ve all forgotten that we’re going to a swim meet all weekend. Your eyes glazed over just a little bit and you’re thinking about tagging along.
Add in the fact that we’ll both be doing something we love and we’re all set. This meet has given us a reason to work hard in the pool for the past several months. It’s always easier to work out when you have a goal. It’s a nice pool. No cabana boys, but nice in the competitive swimming world. Swimmers are fun people to hang around with (i.e. swimmers are crazy – probably from years of chlorine exposure, I’m surprised there haven’t been scientific studies done on the long term effects of chlorine exposure to the brain). And, at the end of the day, we’re old. We’re not trying to get to the Olympics, so it doesn’t really matter how we do. There’s still that one night in a hotel room with another person who does not snore. We get our own beds and no one will be wandering in during the middle of the night. That fact alone makes it a full-fledged girls’ weekend for me. Betty says I can fart all I want as long as I don’t make up songs about farting afterwards. (Yes, Betty has boys. Surprised?) That’s a little bit disappointing. I’m much more interested in the singing than the actual farting, but I wouldn’t want to ruin someone else’s girls’ weekend. Besides, she’s threatening to not share the granola with me. No burping, farting, snoring, or singing. No one calling for “Mommy.” Yup, that sounds about right to me. I’ll have to save my songs for a surprise one early morning at the pool.