A Weekend of Shenanigans in Melbourne with Six Women Freed of Parental Responsibilities

For anyone living under a social media shaped rock, I left my family alone last weekend and indulged in three fabulous nights of girlfriend only company in Melbourne. And it was gooood. Here’s why:

  1. Group dynamic:  Going away with people other than your immediate family is fraught with danger- you can not outwardly act like a complete Knob Head with people who aren’t required to love you unconditionally. So often, you need to reign in your irritability with other people’s stupidity (and vice versa). However, with six ladies spread throughout a three bedroom apartment, different shopping styles, epic hangovers and the introduction of some who had never met others before (and the long time friendships of others who had) there was not one bitchy niggle. Not one! No eye-rolling, no grandstanding, no micro-managing, no overbearing behaviours, no dithering: just an awesome dynamic. Which meant everything anyone did was funny… but just within our group, the rest of Melbourne thought we were Knob Heads.
    Melbourne 2
    Cocktails in jugs at 4pm? Totes the look of a group of responsible mothers.
    A city skyline on a sunny day outside an awesome restaurant with five other like-minded ladies?  Alrighty then.
  2. Melbourne: Sigh (insert dreamy look).  Is this the perfect Girls’ Trip Destination? Quite possibly. We shopped in places those from regional areas can only lust after. We ate in restaurants and took photos of almost every plate of food (I snort down from on top my high horse at people doing that in my own home town). There were bars- with people younger than 60 in them! Oh the novelty!! And those bars were on every corner, on many a rooftop, each with its own style at different ends of the funky spectrum. We had been let loose in a buttery, chardonnay flavoured vortex of laneways, each turn a step deeper into a manmade environment which felt innately organic and wonderfully invigorating. And then we stamped that energised sensation down with some wine for good measure.
  3. Timing: Three nights is the perfect time frame to leave your loved ones behind. Any shorter and it feels like you’ll probably still want to stab yourself in the eye when you get back to the shlep of Mt Washmore. Any longer and you actually start pining for those little people and perhaps your partner. This is also, strangely, like wanting to stab yourself in the eye.  On a much more practical note, I am no longer 25 years of age and able to bounce back from a night out on the pinky ponk juice like I used to. No siree bob. I can not. Three nights of wall to wall wine, cocktails and the odd Shameful Kebab is more than enough for this old duck to realise that putting your heart and soul into a solo on a deserted nightclub dance floor is probs the highest and lowest point of your late thirties. #TrueStory.
  4. Credit Cards: Need I say more?


    Where my credit card is right now.
  5. Hangover cures: I’d just like to say that if ANY company selling ginger beer ever wants me to talk about how this beverage saved me from perhaps the worst hangover of the decade, I’m ready to talk. Loudly. For others, coffee, salted potato chips, fresh juices, a simple walk in the fresh air or, outrageously, more wine, were vital in the staving off of the many and varied hangovers. Except for one lady who tapped out at lunch after eating a dry cracker and drinking half a coke. Only a solid nana nap was going to cure that one.
Melbourne 3
The scene of every post-night-out debrief and analysis of purchases, hairstyles and hangovers.
And so I am back to my family safely and lovingly. But my sides still hurt from the laughter, I’m still catching up on sleep, my credit card is frozen in a block of ice and my liver is no doubt just starting to unfurl itself from the foetal position. But it was fabulous. Absolutely fabulous.

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