My friends and I are in our forties and early fiftyies, so when I say “younger,” I mean in our thirties. There is nothing wrong with enjoying the company of a younger man. When you’re drunk, irate, and unattractive, however, any kind of attention from a good-looking man can get your blood pumping. In addition, we had discussed our fascination with the BBC, and it was a topic that perpetually occupied our thoughts.
When they asked what we were discussing, one of my friends volunteered: “You know girl stuff, relationships or lack thereof, financial issues, whatever is going on in our lives, and then men we talk about men, the one we have at home, if there is one, and what is on the menu this evening, just girl stuff.”
I didn’t particularly enjoy the guy’s hand wandering around the dance floor, but I didn’t try to stop him. To my surprise, I found out that my two best friends had been invited upstairs for a drink during one of our group trips to the restroom (as it is common knowledge that women should never use the facilities alone). They said it was up to me whether or not we went; if I said yes, we went; if I said no, we left. Why not say yes and see what happens? We get drunk, then head back to our respective homes. We visited their bedroom which was located on the second floor. There were three of “them,” and the same number of us.