Talk about stabbing poor hubby in the heart with a stiletto.
One in three women says a night out with the girls beats a night out with their man.
And while one in six ungrateful little madams is being wined and dined by a romantic partner, they’re secretly wishing they were out with their mates instead.
So says a study by a cupcake-making company called Green’s. And this is all supposed to be positive stuff about the power of female friendships! I’d say it’s actually a sad indication of the state of these women’s relationships.
If you’re with the right partner, they become one of your best friends. And as a consequence, the need to stuff your face with dinky little cupcakes and dissect the hundreds and thousands of your life with girlfriends greatly diminishes.
When I was single after divorce, my best friends and I were each other’s counsellors, commiserators, defenders, allies, ego-boosters and motivators. In simplistic terms, we pit-props preventing each other from caving in.
Phone bills were enormous during this period. We’d regularly plunder the Family Allowance and the kids’ piggy banks for what was vital expenditure.
Girls’ nights out (or, to be blunt, middle-aged women’s nights on the pull) were necessities, too. You’d buy a new top at TK and head out to make like you were Carrie and having lots of sex in the city.
But it was all a show. A swindle, designed to fool prospective men into thinking you weren’t screwed up by longing and highly capable of turning into some clinging desperado if they took you to the pictures.
Unfortunately, women malcontent in their relationships get sucked in by the illusion, too. They see single older women gadding around town glammed to the nines in girly gangs and laughing ‘til they leak over something silly and it reminds them how they used to be. When they were young, free and single and had pelvic floors.
They think they want the freedom to do what the hell they like, when they like and with whom. Though the reality is the women they envy actually want to be in their slippers. They want a partner; one person with whom to share everything from a bed to the gas bill and that letter they’ve just had back from the doctor’s about your dodgy smear test. And Christmas and holidays and their birthdays; they can’t face having to arrange their own party again.
They want to be able to get into bed and cuddle up to someone who loves them and doesn’t care that they haven’t waxed their legs for weeks.
I’m so glad I found Bloke and that my friends found theirs. That the need for the girls’ nights out and the lengthy telephone analyses has been replaced by a less frequent and frenetic, but equally fond, friendship.
Next time your partner suggests a romantic meal, don’t spend the night pining for your mates like an ungrateful cow. Thank your lucky stars he prefers to be with you, not at the pub with his.
Or even worse, one of yours.