Charming, but single

A journal in dates and drinks


Adventures in Sitting Shoes

Was able to return to the regular Wednesday night martini night, as I was actually in town this week. As an added bonus, a college roomie of mine was in town for the night, which was cause to celebrate indeed. (I see her two or three times a year now, which is never enough.)
 
I'm not going to even TRY to avoid a cliche or cheesiness. This woman was the Carrie of our group of single girlfriends. Always the most stylish, always the most popular, always the core that held our close-knit girls' group together. Once she took a job out of state, some of the magic of our foursome faded. Though I still have friendships with all of these women, our relationships and interactions have changed substantially.
 
Now, all of this is not because our Carrie moved. I suspect that even if we all lived in the same town there would be some distance between us, though it is convenient to blame distance for what would have occurred naturally. We changed and got jobs and some of us got boyfriends and others of us went to grad school. (Even our hairstyles have changes, with her opting for heavy-ish bangs and a closer-to-natural brown instead of blonde and me getting some long, sweeping bangs with a very short layered bob in the back.) 
 
Still, these four women were are part of some of my most fun (and, conversely, most self-destructive) times -- semesters and years when I could dance all night and drink like a fish and flirt like a fool and kiss without consequence.
 
Even though our relationship will never be the same, the magic was there last night. After drinks, we hung out for a few hours at a friend's place and reminisced. Just the girls. We told the same stories we always tell and laughed at the same jokes we always laugh at and looked at the same pictures we've seen dozens of times before. It felt like old times, just a little less natural and far less permanent.
 
Carrie has settled in, found her a man that she's crazy about and who loves her just as much. And I'm happy for her -- I am -- but it's still weird to not be her black mini-skirted partner in crime, fighting to get the front of the line for drinks from our favorite bartenders, who knew to go heavy on the vodka, light on the cranberry and generous with the lime.
 
I can't even drink vodka and cranberry anymore. (Even with a lot of lime.)
 
It just doesn't taste nearly as good as I remember it tasting.



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Charming, but single is 25 26 27(!), lives in the Southern part of the U.S.A. and likes both her drinks and her boys tall. E-mail (listed below) her and she may respond. You can also IM her in AIM/AOL. (If she ever remembers to sign on.)
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Former taglines of this blog: "A Journal in Dates and Drinks" and "A Dateless Journal of Drinking."




Those Particulars
Some Backstory
Memories of the Way We Were
Updates and Towel Snapping
One Year Wrap-Up
Just As She Is
An Open Letter to Myself
After 26 years, she HAS learned something
An Open Letter to the Men Who Message Me Through Match
Sharing a smoke



Associated Content Interview with Charming
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