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Posts Tagged ‘sisterhood’

Catching up with some girlfriends on their various social media of choice, I realise how much more real, more valid, we feel when our voice sounds among our friends, a resonant viola harmonising with the string section rather than a poignant, shrill violin on the lonely wind.

Well, there was a lot of wind, actually, but hot air is soothing too and sometimes a well-directed scalding blast can kindle the parts you thought were forever cold.

There has been some heated discussion recently over whether women are gaining the ascendancy over men, and how morally right or wrong that would be. Would I be betraying my gender if I wonder how important that is to most women, compared to their position in their own family group and peer group? The so-called battle of the sexes must largely be fought by women who have little else to fight for.

The gift I get from my sisterhood is laughter. There’s a lot of giggling in the early stages of a romance, but love can be a sadly serious business and life as a grown-up, modern woman even more so; nothing compares for self-validating power to an unrestrained belly laugh with a group of girlfriends.

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I talked with a dear friend who is a good number of years older and wiser than me. One thing I do love about being ‘une femme d’un certain age’ is the wide range of friends I can enjoy; it is fascinating and invigorating to chatter with beautifully gilded lilies of twenty-something and equally educational and inspiring to spend time at the feet of the grande dames we hope one day to be.

Anyway, this awe-inspiring life force gifted me her ear into which I poured my woes, though the conversation was rather stilted as she was on a train at the time.

We commiserated in our perplexity at the tough-skinned yet tender male of the species, and considered usefully analogous men from her past. She listened, she sipped her mineral water, and she gave her verdict. ‘To speak frankly, darling, nurture him if you can, but if he won’t screw you, then screw him!’

Later I realised that in true Delphic fashion the wisdom I had received was double-edged; was I to tell my unloving lover to f*** off? Or did she suggest that I should cut the psychobabble and straddle him as he slept?

I can only imagine what the other rail passengers made of it.

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