“Oh yes it’s ladies’ night and the feelings right/ Oh yes it’s ladies’ night, oh what a night (oh what a night)!” Kool and the Gang created this feel good anthem for the ladies several decades ago in hopes of shining a spotlight on the ladies’ stepping out in their finest for a night on the town – without any men. Ladies’ night is all about celebrating sisterhood, camaraderie, and enjoying the company of your girlfriends.
YAY sisterhood. YAY singledom. YAY independence. I get it. It’s fun every now and then, but am I the only one that is tired of Ladies’ Night? If I receive one more COT damn invitation to get dressed up and get drinks with friends that have the same genitalia as me I’m going to effing lose it! Ok, not really (she’s so dramatic), but I’m going to spazz out.
Let me explain my hysteria… The premise sounds fun – get your freak em’ dress on, a mean pair of heels, and beat your face to the Gawds (*insert all sorts of fabulous drag queen jargon here* i.e. “Yaaas honey!”, “Slay muva slay!”, or my personal favorite “Yaaaas bitch”) and socialize with your nearest and dearest friends, cool. You consume a bit more than you planned to and quickly loosen up. Suddenly every song becomes your jam. Regular dancing turns into intoxicated dancing as you gyrate on your girls like drunken lesbians while simultaneously singing (off key might I add) to whatever jam of yours is playing at the moment. Then it creeps up – HORNINESS and his friend MEMORY LOSS.
That Remy/Henny and coke, Kettle One and cranberry, or wine enters the system and you suddenly have an itch that only a man can scratch, problem is you’re as single… as fuck. What’s a girl to do? Yep, you send that random text message (that you KNOW you shouldn’t be sending) to the asshole that you swore off for the 50-11th time several months ago. You rationalize texting him; “He wasn’t THAT bad. I mean he apologized for treating me the way that he did. He even told me that he loved me. I think he meant it. I’m going to text him because I believe he really was sorry.” Your love below is throbbing like a tachycardic heart and you give in – you send the filthiest text possible to him with hopes of a getting a quick response because you need your itch scratched.
You hug and kiss your girls goodbye then head outside to the Uber that you secretly ordered on your smartphone the second you rationalized sending that filthy lust-filled text to your ex boo-thang. You don’t dare tell your girls where you’re off to because you don’t want anyone talking you out of getting the bomb ass D that you’re on your way to get. Moments later the cab pulls up in front of his place and you step out. There he is to greet you, with his magically-delicious-no-good-lying-cheating-non-committing-incredible-pipe-game-having ass. “Damn, he’s fine”, you tell yourself as you step out the car sashaying over to him. You greet him with kiss then follow him upstairs to get what you came there for. Sound familiar?
With how quickly the evening can go from hanging with your girlfriends for camaraderie to you lamenting over failed relationships (cheating ex beaus, love lost, amazing sex, etc), I wonder how effective “Ladies’ nights” actually are. I always thought they were intended to be nights of women empowerment, celebrating independence, and sexiness. Why is it, that when we start drinking ladies’ nights go from 0 to 100 real quick?
Here’s an example – a real life example. This weekend I celebrated the birthday of a girlfriend along with ten other women. We pole danced. We drank. We ate. We danced. However, on the ride back from the restaurant my good girlfriend talked about her desire to find a “cuddy buddy” as cuffing season has officially approached. I chimed in (as her desires were definitely shared by others) and talked about how good it would be to have a cuddy buddy right about now. The night ended with me getting dropped off to my place, alone and my girlfriend going to her place, alone. Ladies’ night riled us up, only to give us an unhappy ending (and by happy ending I mean earth shattering, back breaking, shift yo guts sex).
Let’s face it, hanging with the girls is fun, but when that fourth shot goes down your throat and you start feeling all warm and fuzzy in your nether regions, things change. Ladies’ nights usually ends with a strong desire to be in the arms of a man – whether he’s Mr. Right or not. Am I right or what? What do you think?
Until next time friends!