I snort when I laugh really hard. It just happens. That’s stage one. In stage two I enter the “no breathing zone.” This is where I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe. By stage three, I start to lean and fall. So if it’s a really, really funny occasion, then you can almost bet I’ll be silently convulsing near the floor with occasional snorts (gasps) for air. Tears are optional.
Last night I had many reasons to laugh. Surrounded by a group of friends in a zany setting. Uninhibited by social norms or rules, just having fun.
When I came home, I called my friend Molly. There are moments in this whole divorscapade (I made that word up so booyah spellchecker!) that I need to talk to my girlfriends. Even if I’ve just had a night to remember — it’s sometimes a little lonely in my fun. If I’m honest, at the end of the day I want to share my fun with someone.
No, she really hasn’t. We’ve all been busy.
Me: “I’m kind of sad tonight.”
20 minutes later I have an invite for dinner tonight with her entire family and I am reminded that I am really not alone in any of this.
When you spend seven years of your life with someone who loves you and is there for you unconditionally, someone who you treasured having fun with, it’s hard to find that strength within to know that you don’t need that. You are ok alone. You don’t have to share your fun with anyone else. It can be yours. You can own it.
But when you just need a little nudge toward independence…
A listening ear at 11 p.m. after a Thursday night out with the gay boys…
An invite for dinner on a Friday night…
To dump some honest feelings on someone…
It’s nice to have good friends.
And Molly has the most amazing laugh you’ve ever heard.