Around noon I’d had enough. The unforgiving fog of sleeplessness had dry humped my brain into paralysis and my mood was somewhere hovering between I’ll slap you up top and I’ll slaughter you and your descendants.

My best friend Hannah phoned around 12:03…a very vulnerable time for everyone concerned. She persuaded me with almost no effort whatsoever that we should get takeaways and wine and ditch work. Since work is on a slow-go anyway, I was like: word.

A third friend, Leigh, joined us and a small murder of girlfriends was born.

Between fries and nuggets and fermented grapes we happened upon the solid gold topics that girlfriends eventually arrive at after too much fermented fruit and carbs…men…

I came to this conclusion today: my friends are insane. I am the only normal one of the lot and that makes me wonder how bad things have become.

For example, Leigh has a thing for noses. The bigger the shnah the sexier the dude. Think Adrian Brody. The brain behind the nose should also be vicious and funny of course, but the potato is the chief hook…

And this is no small attraction. I’ve seen Leigh in rooms with noses. It’s a thing to behold. She literally wants to be lead around by a nose. [At this point I laugh at myself…]

Hannah is into teddy bears and voices. The deeper the voice, or the more distinctive the tone, the more viper-ish the seduction. And if you throw in boyish charm, some baby-face dimples and a little something to hold on to in the middle…well…you’re in for a parté…

But Hannah’s main hook is a challenging mind. On a bad day, she’s the second smartest person in the room. (Hehehe…). On a good day, she’ll rip you to shreds with that brain of hers. And cheeky banter is her forte. So when her interests are tweaked, she’ll go at you…and the crowd will gather to see the outcome. Will she destroy him? Will he hit back? Will she get bored? Or, for once, will he win the match?

She wins her mind matches nine times out of ten. Then she bats the object of her attentions for a six and we all go back to work and the object goes home to lick his ego…

Me, I’m more civil in what I like. Slap on a properly groomed beard and some mean-looking eyes and I’ll paint your house. And ‘paint your house’ is code for…not painting your house!

Listening to my weirdo friends this afternoon, I was amazed at the confident and nuanced descriptions of what it is we each like. Age has taught us what we don’t respond to and won’t tolerate, and we can cut through the grease to find what it is that shakes the branch. No more of that ridiculous tall, dark and handsome nonsense…

No. Age teaches you that the biggest, smoothest watermelon is not always the sweetest.

And maybe age and heartache and experience mold us into exactly the nose, teddy bear, intelligento, wise ass, bear, or other weird form that makes us fit nicely with someone else…

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