It was Mabelle's 22 @ 22 celebration last weekend, so my college friends and I dragged our butts to Greenbelt for dinner - courtesy of the birthday celebrant, of course. It's always a blast seeing friends, and when there's a birthday it's even more special.
Mabz and Edz crashed at my place afterwards. Before we left Greenbelt we bought some take-out at McDonald's, hailed a cab, got home, and had a midnight snack.
I was afraid of how they would react to my flat, with all its horrible problems. Surprisingly, the friends that they are, Mabz and Edz didn't seem to mind, and we quite enjoyed ourselves just sitting around, eating McNuggets with the TV on and talking about the all-important wedding of Nicole Kidman. Afterwards, we watched a few Sex and the City episodes until we all drifted off into sleep.
We woke up late the next day, and ordered take-out (again!), this time at Jollibee. Had breakfast with the TV on and more chit-chat. After a while Mabz had to leave, so Edell and I were left to ponder over lunch. Not wanting to get out of the house, we had some Chowking delivered even before we had properly digested our Jollibee morning meals, and watched more Sex and the City.
Over the weekend I probably gained ten pounds and a profound insight into my new life. Well, okay, not really profound, but it's an important one.
When I was younger, I saw my twenty-something self living the life of the characters in Friends and Sex and the City. They were all fabulous and funny and having a blast in their massive apartments, with their wonderful friends. They didn't seem to work as much, and they never took out the trash or needed the services of a plumber. Life was, undoubtedly, peachy. Mine, on the other hand, was far from it - except with the matter of wonderful friends.
And you know what? That's really all I need.
After Mabz and Edz had gone home and I found myself alone in the flat again, I was surprisingly happy and for the first time, truly satisfied with my life. So I was living in a place that's far from fabulous, and my address doesn't scream "yuppie" - at least I have a set of amazing friends who make life fun and wonderful, wherever we were.
Besides, the aparment where Monica and Rachel live? A set. A studio. Fake. My life? Like my flat, with its various flaws and imperfections, completely real.