There are 30 of us sitting around a long table in an authentic Italian pizzeria. We are awaiting the arrival of the soon-to-be-surprised birthday girl, whose husband – in an impressive display of Outstanding Husband etiquette – has been organising this secret soirée for months.
The birthday girl, M, is one of my oldest and dearest friends, and we have been celebrating birthdays together for many years. Debauched partying at London nightclubs have given way to intimate dinners in the suburbs, but the same, familiar, core group of friends have turned up to support M’s transition from her 20s to her 30s.
In the year since our last gathering, changes have been taking place in all our lives. I take my place at the table, in time to catch the tail-end of a conversation between J and H, two halves of separate Married Couples.
J: So hopefully, we should be exchanging in the next 2 weeks
H: Fantastic! So where is the new house?
J: Just round the corner. And the good thing is that the people who are buying our flat are first time buyers, so there’s no pressure for us to move out immediately. It’s going to be so great to have a whole house to ourselves.
H: Yes. Because when you’re in your 30s, you need a house, don’t you?
Feeling a little out of my depth, I turn to the 2 Newly Married Couples sitting to my left, S&V and S&N. They have just met, and are comparing notes on how they know M.
S: …and I’m just the Husband, along for the ride!
N: Me too!
They reach across the table and shake hands conspiratorially, bonding in their shared marital experience. The conversation quickly turns to Children: when to have them, the best day care arrangements and other important decisions.
I sigh to myself. The most important decision I have had to make this weekend is whether or not I am too petite to carry off the latest “it” item of clothing; the new high-waisted, flared K Jeans from Topshop.
And thus the tone is set for the remainder of the evening. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot A, the only other Singleton in the group. Relieved, I gesture to her, and she sits down beside me. A large, crisp, glittering diamond sparkles from her ring finger. Fantastic. Another one struck by the love bug. Suddenly, the comfort that comes from relaxing in the moment with an old, familiar group of friends has given way to a panicked anxiety about a lonely, partnerless future, in which all shared experience that forms a point of contact with my old friends is eroded in favour of disparate lives.
No time to contemplate this one further tonight, unfortunately; I am off to a wedding now.
The birthday girl, M, is one of my oldest and dearest friends, and we have been celebrating birthdays together for many years. Debauched partying at London nightclubs have given way to intimate dinners in the suburbs, but the same, familiar, core group of friends have turned up to support M’s transition from her 20s to her 30s.
In the year since our last gathering, changes have been taking place in all our lives. I take my place at the table, in time to catch the tail-end of a conversation between J and H, two halves of separate Married Couples.
J: So hopefully, we should be exchanging in the next 2 weeks
H: Fantastic! So where is the new house?
J: Just round the corner. And the good thing is that the people who are buying our flat are first time buyers, so there’s no pressure for us to move out immediately. It’s going to be so great to have a whole house to ourselves.
H: Yes. Because when you’re in your 30s, you need a house, don’t you?
Feeling a little out of my depth, I turn to the 2 Newly Married Couples sitting to my left, S&V and S&N. They have just met, and are comparing notes on how they know M.
S: …and I’m just the Husband, along for the ride!
N: Me too!
They reach across the table and shake hands conspiratorially, bonding in their shared marital experience. The conversation quickly turns to Children: when to have them, the best day care arrangements and other important decisions.
I sigh to myself. The most important decision I have had to make this weekend is whether or not I am too petite to carry off the latest “it” item of clothing; the new high-waisted, flared K Jeans from Topshop.
And thus the tone is set for the remainder of the evening. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot A, the only other Singleton in the group. Relieved, I gesture to her, and she sits down beside me. A large, crisp, glittering diamond sparkles from her ring finger. Fantastic. Another one struck by the love bug. Suddenly, the comfort that comes from relaxing in the moment with an old, familiar group of friends has given way to a panicked anxiety about a lonely, partnerless future, in which all shared experience that forms a point of contact with my old friends is eroded in favour of disparate lives.
No time to contemplate this one further tonight, unfortunately; I am off to a wedding now.
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