Trish the Dish

Eventually, the guys get up to leave. I am feeling better about things. Maybe this mornings awkwardness could be blamed on a hangover?

But what is up with Chris sitting on my chair? I thought that was so odd. Not that I minded or anything; it was just a place to sit (and my bird legs leave lots of room to sit) but I would have thought that Chris would have considered that seat taken.

Unless he's just that big an asshole that he's trying to interfere? I don't know the guy at all. I know he's an elementary school gym teacher who smokes. (Which brings up visions of Walter Matthau in the Bad News Bears) And he's married. And he's hilarious. Not Three Stooges hilarious. Smart and clever hilarious. But he could be just that big an asshole. He can't have the girl so he'll interfere with his friend getting the girl? What? Is he five years old?

No time to dwell on that. He doesn't actually matter. Once the guys leave and I am feeling a little less like an ass, we resume normal Girls Weekend activities.

Discuss what a drag it is getting old.
Discuss that sex with the men we love was more fun before they became the husbands we love.
Discuss vitamin supplements, and peri-menopause, and the best hair dye to cover your grays, and what a travesty it is that we are actually discussing these things at Girls Weekend.
We are paid a visit by our friend who is the mother of two children under the age of three and help her chase them around and all remember quietly to ourselves why the no-kid feature of Girls Weekend is so sacred.
We bump into old friends and old colleagues who are thrilled to get a peek at what happens at Girls Weekend.

One of the friends is a zippy older lady named Trish with a very handsome husband Bob that Kate used to work with. She's come to the bar to get a cocktail she intends to smuggle onto the beach. She's a total trip to talk to and she is thoroughly enjoying retirement. She is planning a Girls Weekend with some of her retiree friends after Labor Day. It sounds like they may actually have more fun than us!

The band has begun. We've started to order cocktails. We've made individual decisions about needing naps or not. (Again, another travesty. I remember Girls Weekends when our heads never touched a pillow.)

Kate announces that she is ready for cocktails because she is feeling all zippy. She took a snooze in the lounge chair, took a walk, had a salad, took a big poop and was ready to rock and roll. (We never used to discuss bowel movements at Girls Weekend either.)

A few drinks later, Trish returns to the pool. Presumably to mover her bowels. On her way back, she asks us about some guys we may have met last night.

We are all out of our chairs, cocktails in hand, on our feet surrounding her at once.

She says that one of them, one who smokes, approached her.

OK - it was Chris. The one who has the greatest likelihood of being an asshole.

She says he walked through the pool area, evidently unobserved, while we were all talking and noticed her. He found her on the beach with her husband, sat down and began talking to them.

She mentioned that he was very nice. Had very nice manners. Was very personable. Otherwise her husband would have clobbered him inside a minute.

She says he asked how well she knew us all. Before she could answer, she says he told her that we'd all met last night and that they wanted to mysteriously come up with little known facts about us when we all talked tonight. Keep us guessing.

She says she was on the verge of telling them that she barely knew most of us but decided we could actually have fun with it. So she said she'd be happy to dish, she just needed to go get a fresh drink. She'd come find him on the beach.

That's when she approached us, wide-eyed with devious intentions. "Let's give 'em somethin' to talk about girls! Let's blow their minds!"

We come up with all kinds of hilarious ideas. Bogus factoids. Outrageous jobs. Fantastic life stories. Well hidden marriages to celebrities and dignitaries.

In the end we decide to provide tidbits on only 5 of us, not 6, so they can not decide anything by process of elimination.

She'd tell them one slightly outlandish but sort of believable back story for each of the 5, and claim not to know the 6th, and also decline dishing about which story belonged to whom.

One of us is a beer heiress.
One of us practices witchcraft. Serious witchcraft.
One of us is a lesbian, but married to a man.
One of us is having a long term affair with a foreign ambassador.
One of us is an accomplished trapeze artist and performs in Vegas seasonally.

She is giggling wildly and taking guesses as to who they will think is whom.

Trish flips and flops off toward the beach. We are giddy with delight.

Another plan hatched by the boys that we get the upper hand on first.

What is not to love about Girls Weekend?